


His name is Arthur

by CarmenduPrat



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Aithusa - Freeform, Albion awaits, Amnesiac Arthur, Angst, Athur wakes up from his sleep, Crappy Merlin Jokes that He Thinks are Top-Notch Comedy, Emotional Merlin, Emotions, Excalibur, Friendship, Gen, Gwaine - Freeform, Humor, Immortal Merlin, Lake of Avalon, Magic, Merlin Postman, Modern Era, Mystery, Old Merlin - Freeform, Original Character(s), Post-Series, Queer Themes, Regaining Memories, Some wives and some husbands, Temporary Amnesia, The Great Dragon - Freeform, The Royal family, The White Dragon, Which is like half the show anyway, duels, tags and characters may change with the development of the work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-31
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2018-05-30 07:25:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 39,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6414436
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarmenduPrat/pseuds/CarmenduPrat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin has waited for centuries. But when a tragedy happens and Arthur comes back to save his people, he quickly realises he wasn't prepared for any of it. Helping Arthur regain his memories and investigating a new threat, Merlin's fight for Albion begins once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My friend the Idiot](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+friend+the+Idiot).



> This prologue introduces new characters, that will be relevant to the story later on, so please don't dismiss them so easily. It's my first work, and I'm very excited about it! Anyway, enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the TV show 'Merlin' or any of its characters.

   'Ricky! Gemma! Hurry up!' Mrs. Brown shouted as she and her husband were unloading their pick-up. Their kids left them for just a minute, for what her husband would joke was 'nature's call'. Whatever you might think it was, they simply ran into the forest, chasing after a squirrel, willing to take as many photos of it, as they possibly could. The kids loved the joke, and repeated it several times, when she called them over to help, causing their father to laugh at it even more. She, obviously, didn't appreciate it. She rolled her eyes, and every time she heard it she became less and less patient with her children.

'You better tell them to get back here.' She told her husband not looking up from the trunk of their car. 'Because we gotta put up a tent before nightfall, otherwise the mosquitoes will eat us up. And if we don't, I'm gonna make you put it up yourself.' With the last sentence her head emerged from the car and she gave her husband a pointed look.

'Fine.' Mr. Brown sighed. 'But personally, I think you're taking away their natural eagerness towards nature.' He said not daring to look up from the ground at his wife, knowing that she was already irritated enough to throw everything and go home. He absolutely loved her, but when something didn't go according to her very precise plan, she could be really nasty. Having said that, he walked in the direction of the forest, meanwhile calling his children by their names.

  
   Despite the little squirrel setback, the tent was put up in time, with their phones turned off and chugged in the deepest corner of their truck and with only Mrs. Brown knowing where to find them, the Brown family was sitting around the fire, Mr. Brown fought bravely to lit. Gemma took out her guitar, and as they usually would, they sang songs from primary school, so that their younger, Ricky, could also sing along. It was one of those perfect nights, even though Mr. Brown didn't expect it to be. The sky was clear, the mosquitoes weren't that bad, the air was perfectly chilly, the frogs were croaking and cicadas were playing their songs. The reason this was unexpected was simple. It was their first time, camping beside this particular lake. They would travel all over Great Britain in search of places to camp and spend time together like this. The reason they always omitted this lake was that it was the closest one they could find. That made them feel no sense of adventure whatsoever. Camping beside a lake that was just a couple blocks from their house? No unknown terrain, no new land, nothing exciting, really. And they were partially right. It wasn't exciting at all. This lake. But it gave them a different kind of satisfaction - it made them feel safe. Being able to go back home made them feel content and secure. And that was something they didn't experience a lot, but definitely needed.

  
   'Dad? Didn't you have a story about this lake?' Gemma asked out of the blue, clearly trying to remember a previous conversation.

'Ah, yes' Her father said knowingly. 'I was just saying that this particular lake is connected to the Arthurian legends' He said with a smile trying to sound mysterious.

'Here we go again' said Mrs. Brown 'Knights of the round table, magic, dragons... Ronald, will you ever grow out of this?' there was a distinct trace of tiredness in her voice, as if her husband would spend hours talking about legends. Which he obviously did.

'Knights? I wanna hear 'bout knights!' Ricky chipped in excitedly. Mrs. Brown let out a heavy sigh, sounding defeated, to which the rest of them grinned.

'Well then. It was said, that the lake of Avalon was the magical lake in which king Arthur rests after his death, to come back when Britain needs him the most...'

  
   After a lot of storytelling, a few more songs, and a bit of casual family bickering and laughing, the Browns were sleeping heavily in their tents, completely unaware of what they were talking about, was to come true before their eyes. The morning began quietly, with no rush and the couple setting up wood for a new fire, to get some warm breakfast, before their departure for home. This time was different, they felt. It was a lot more peaceful. Not only were they closer home, but there was also something about the lake itself. The morning mist was heavy, but it didn't feel cold or frightening. It actually felt quite comforting. They woke their children. They made some eggs. Time passed. But the mist didn't seem to be going anywhere. It was nearly noon, when the mist has turned into nothing but an extremely heavy fog. What was even more troubling was that they could clearly see it was only ever surrounding the lake, and ended right with it.

  
  Slowly getting ready to head back home, when the clock struck noon, which they didn't know, having hidden all their devices, they were startled by a very loud splash. 'What was that?!' screeched Gemma, clinging to her father, with her brother following in her steps.

'Kids, go to your mother, I'm going to see what's going on' He said as he started walking slowly into even heavier fog. Right now the fog made them feel uneasy. As if something they had no idea about was happening.

'Ronald, stop! this could be dangerous!' Mrs. Brown hissed. Mr. Brown turned around impatiently to look at his wife.

'Also, someone could be needing my help right now, drowning.' Mrs. Brown pursed her lips, and didn't say anything else. She knew her husband would never leave someone in need and there was no talking him out of it.

  
   He started slowly approaching the brink of the water, getting into more and more mud and water plants.

'Hello?!' He called out. 'Anybody here?!' He wondered, whether whatever it was, was actually human, and not an animal stuck in a fishing net. He would have been furious, if it turned out to be the latter. There was nothing he hated more than animal cruelty. Thinking about it, and hearing no response, he was getting more and more angry. And then he heard a voice.

'Over here!' Someone called, and Mr. Brown could hear more mud splashing coming from the same place as the voice.

'I'm coming!' He answered. He started walking faster towards the source of the sounds, yet remaining careful. Then he reached out. Two extremely cold, wet and naked hands grabbed his forearms.

"There, There', he said, as he saw a very frantic, terrified young man before his eyes. 'It's alright. What happened, what's going on?' He asked calmly.

'I have no idea' said the man.

'It's fine. Here, hold my arm. What's your name?' he asked politely, as he helped the young man walk from the lake to their car.

'I can't remember...' the boy said weakly and turned to look at the man beside him. Mr. Brown turned his head accordingly and looked into utterly confused and petrified pair of bright blue eyes. The strangeness of it all struck him, as they left the fog, and met the rest of the Browns. His wife gave a little surprised shout and covered their children's eyes. The man who walked out of the lake was stark naked. He had nothing with him. He didn't know what happened. He didn't remember his name. Just then Mr. Brown realised that the closeness of the lake to their house, might be its best feature yet.


	2. The Naked Man and the Old Postman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm adding the first chapter right after the Prologue, because it shows more action involving the main characters! So they're kinda like a package. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the TV show 'Merlin' or any of its characters.

   By the White Goddess. It was the first thing that came to Merlin’s mind, when he saw the time. It was noon already. He has never been as late to work, as he was today. He had no idea what happened. His alarm clock went off three times, and there was no way he could have been unconsciously putting snooze on for five hours. Yes. Five hours. That’s how horribly late for work he was. He ran from his bed and rushed to put on clothes, not even thinking about breakfast or a morning wash. He felt fear crawling into his heart. Was it his old age? Was it already his time? Was magic drawing him to his end? What on the bloody earth could have caused him to oversleep like this!? He grabbed his bag, and threw his keys inside. He couldn’t find his favourite hat, so he stuck to the itching one, as it was closer. He opened the door, and hastily locked it behind him. He then checked whether nobody was looking, and teleported himself to the bottom of the stairs. He immidiately started excusing himself in front of...himself, acknowledging that he did that NOT out of laziness or old age, but because he was is such a hurry. The moment he left the building, he began half-running to the post office. He realised how ridiculous that must’ve looked like. A Santa Claus looking man in postman’s outfit huffing and puffing his entire way to work.

   When he finally got to the post office, he could sense something was going on, before he opened the door. The inside of the office was a mess. People kept running in and out, and in various directions, yelling and shouting commands at one another. Whatever it was, he figured it wasn’t his business, and considering how late and exhausted he was, he decided to stick to taking his work for the day and leaving. He went over to Margaret’s desk, greeted her and asked for his letters, muttering words of apology for how late he was.

‘It’s no big deal.’ She said, forcing a smile.’In a day like today, it’s quite understandable. I was late myself.’ She sniffed as she said that, and Merlin could see clearly the redness of her eyes and then… a single teardrop falling from her cheek.

‘There. That’s all. Good bye.’ She managed to croak and she started to sob uncontrollably. As soon as she did, Janice ran to her, and started hugging her, whispering words of consolation into her ear. Well that was… peculiar to say the least. Merlin left the post office completely dumbfounded. He didn’t know Margaret was that sensitive. Perhaps that’s why she and her girlfriend worked in one place. To be there for each other at all times. Whatever happened it must have been big, Merlin thought to himself. He decided to ask Margaret what that was all about, but perhaps on a less hectic day.

   He looked into his bag. He had a load of letters, meaning the usual walking, and one small package. He knew he needed a signed confirmation of that. He winced inwardly when he thought he would have to walk into Mrs. Geran’s house. He didn’t really mind the woman, but her dog was the most devilish creature he’s seen in years. So when he saw Mr. Brown’s name on the package, instant relief washed over him. He liked Mr. Brown. Mr. Brown liked talking as well as listening about magic and Camelot, and Albion. He was one of those few people that Merlin would talk to without barriers, but he was sure, that poor Mr. Brown, had no idea how true his stories actually were. Mrs. Brown however dismissed Merlin’s tales entirely. No matter how eager the rest of her family was, she would have none of it. She didn’t like history one bit. Instead she would spend her days working on computer software, or even in free time, playing video games. Merlin could never entirely understand the idea behind computers, so he didn’t have many common topics with Mrs. Brown. Nonetheless, he respected both of them a lot. He now began to wonder, whether they would already be back from their camping trip, or whether he would have to leave the package at the post office. One way or another, he was just three houses short of finding out.

   When he reached the Browns, he could see Ricky taking his plushie dragon out of the back seat of their pick-up.

‘Good afternoon, Mr. Ealdor!’ He yelled merrily towards incoming Merlin.

‘Good afternoon, Ricky!’ Merlin said back as he was nearing the boy. ‘Are your parents home?’

‘Yes! They’re a bit busy, because we found a man. But other than that, they’re there.’ He laughed at the confused expression on Merlin’s face and ran to open the door, for the postman.

’Please, come in’ he said as he held the door opened. Merlin stepped in, and took in a messy corridor full of camping equipment. ‘Mom, dad! it’s Mr. Ealdor with a package!’ Then a very distraught Mrs. Brown emerged from the kitchen, with a big fuming cup of tea in her hands.

‘Just a minute!’ She exclaimed barely looking in Merlin’s direction.

‘Please come in further, I’ll show you the naked man. Well we gave him clothes, but when we found him, he was stark naked!’ Little Ricky gave out a heartily laugh at this statement, as if a sight of a random naked man, was the funniest thing he has ever seen. Merlin slowly began walking towards the living room.

   The couple were sitting around ‘the naked man’, now fully dressed, just like Ricky had said. He was visibly trembling and was extremely pale and wet. Merlin took in the image in front of him. And once again feeling utter confusion, the man sitting on the couch was none other, but Arthur Pendragon. As soon as he thought that, he mentally kicked himself. What an idiot was he. Throughout hundreds of years, that Merlin has walked the Earth, he has ‘seen’ Arthur more than a thousand times already. Blonde, blue eyes, male. That was enough. Sometimes it was a similiar voice, or laugh. He has come to miss his friend so much, everything looked like Arthur Pendragon to him. He could even hear Arthur’s voice, when someone called him an idiot. Which he, for that, was.

‘Can you please try to remember?’ He could hear Mr. Brown’s pleading voice.

‘I - I’m sorry…’ The man said weakly. Oh, uh. Deja-vu. Has he dreamt this moment? No way. This man was simply too Arthuric for him to handle. Stupid old man. Arthur is dead. And Merlin buried him in the Avalon…

‘...lake.’

‘Excuse me?’ muttered Merlin, towards a voice that sounded like an overexcited Ricky.

‘We found him at the lake! That’s why he’s wet!’ Huh. Coincidence, right? The next thing he knew, Gemma went for the tv, and turned it on. In a matter of seconds a very moved news anchor proclaimed ‘...the police and the best of Britain’s detectives are conducting an investigation, right this very second…’ Above her, was a huge red banner saying ‘A Tragedy in the Buckingham Palace’. Photos of people gathered in front of the Palace crying and hugging one another followed.

People crying in front of the Buckingham Palace.

Margaret crying in the post-office.

A Tragedy in the Buckingham Palace.

A shiver went down Merlin’s spine.

_In a day like today, it’s quite understandable._

_We found him at the lake!_

_I - I’m sorry…_

A sudden wave of heat hit him, when his gears started turning.

_...to come back when Albion needs him most…_

All he needed was one more look at the man on the couch.


	3. Baffling Fatherhood and the Voices in Your Head

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is longer than the previous ones. The next one is shorter again, but i promise to do my best in writing longer chapters. Hope you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the TV show 'Merlin' or any of its characters.

   Merlin suddenly felt very, very dizzy. As he stumbled to grasp something firm, his blurry vision informed him that Mr. Brown was now running to him, and helping him stand.

‘...going on?’ He heard through a loud shrill of his ears ringing. He could barely identify what was going on, and yet he knew he needed to act quickly and was determined to do so. At a complete loss of a possible solution to the situation at hand and desperate need to slow things down, he decided to play for time, and let out an incoherent cry. Not sure how that could possibly help, he raised his head to watch the people around him. Luckily enough, his screech worked. Everyone was now watching him intently. He could clearly see he startled them, to say the least. Mr. Brown was now letting him sit on the floor, and let go of his arm. The children backed away from him. Whatever they were thinking, his impromptu plan was working nicely. Too nicely to not continue it.

 

   He let out another wail, and started weeping, burying his face in his hands. He could feel the glance exchange between the married couple as they tried to make anything out of their current situation. The tv played in the background, forgotten. The issue at hand was more important than whatever the newscaster was trying to say. Completely puzzled, Mr. Brown started patting Merlin’s shoulder in a sign of consolation, soon to be followed by small Ricky, gently stroking Merlin’s back. After a solid minute of crying, he looked up from his palms and his pained expression landed on Mrs. Brown and the not-so-naked-now man.

 

   ‘What’s wrong? Mr. Ealdor, what is going on?’ asked Mrs. Brown. As expected she was the first one to regain herself and take control of the situation. She didn’t believe in being helpless. She was sure about being able to handle any situation she put her mind to. And that’s exactly what she intended to do.

‘He...This man…’ Merlin managed between fake sobs. He was so glad he’s spent so much time with Shakespeare, and could give the situation he just made up an appropriate amount of drama. Hamlet was very emotional after all. No, not the play. The boy. The one who poisoned himself. The one William based his character on. And no, Shakespeare in not a brachylogy. He meant the actual playwright. He and William had some good times together, and the great author taught him a lot about a good play.

 

‘What about this man?’ Inquired Mrs. Brown this time more firmly. Oh, well. He hasn’t thought this part through yet. How to convince them he needed to take this man with him this very second? How could he be so important to an old man?

Oh. That’s right. He shivered at the thought of Uther Pendragon, as he croaked ‘This man is my lost son’. All eyes once again were on him. And they were, once again all very taken aback. As a result to this, it was the blonde prat, who spoke first.

‘You’re my dad? You’re too ugly to be my dad!’ He exclaimed with child-like innocence. Despite his sophisticated act, a laugh escaped Merlin. When he saw the faces the Browns were making, as they, now including Mrs. Brown, were left utterly gobsmacked, he composed himself and decided to stick to the storyline.

‘My son.’ He said now fondly.’I never spoke of him. I take care of him on my own. My wife died at childbirth. He is mentally handicapped. I’ve been seeing to him all his life, but he escaped recently.’ As he said that, he added a few sobs for emphasis and turned his head to Mr. Brown to continue. ‘I-I could..couldn’t find him. I was so...so afraid I was never going to see him again. That he has done something he doesn’t realise is dangerous. I haven’t slept, I haven’t eaten. I was so worried. And there he is…’ He cut as he inclined his head to cry some more, to show his grief.

 

   The Browns were now feeling they had a full understanding of the story. The handicapped young man ran away from his home. He wandered off and suffered from amnesia, that was quite possibly a sign of his mental disability. In his vulnerability his clothes were most likely stolen from him, as he could barely fathom what was going on, and had nothing else to be robbed of. He then found himself at the lake, around which he’s been walking in order to find someone who could possibly help him. And that’s when they come in. The Browns. They found him at the lake and brought him home. It all weirdly made sense now. The couple let out heavy sighs respectively and moved around to help the sobbing mess that their postman has become.

 

   ‘You want to take him home, I presume?’ Mrs. Brown asked feeling steady again. Merlin nodded eagerly. ‘But you still have work to do. Don’t you?’ She said looking at his bag, still half-full of letters.

‘That’s also true. If you could…’ He began, to be interrupted by Mr. Brown.

‘We’ll take care of him, do not fret. He’ll be waiting for you when you finish your job.’ He smiled, seeing relief and gratitude settle on Merlin’s features. Then he furrowed his brow once again. ‘But it’s already 2 p.m.! What are you still doing working?’ He asked with a hint of worry in his tone.

‘I think you would actually like to watch the news when I leave. The entire country is a mess, not only me.’ Merlin said gravely, as he handed Mr. Brown a paper he was initially supposed to sign. As soon as he did, Merlin handed him the package, and made his way to the door. Mr. Brown was already turning around to look at the TV, when Gemma’s voice stopped either of them from moving.

‘Sir? Mr. Ealdor? What is your son’s name?’ She asked, still in the process of calming herself, after his sudden outburst. He was very sorry for the children and felt guilt as he thought they had to experience a story full of so much pain.

To answer this question he looked up at the man, still sitting on the couch, still wide-eyed and probably understanding little to zero about what was happening around him. As he caught the fearful blue gaze, he swallowed hard. His eyes fixed on his long lost friend’s, he uttered ‘Arthur. His name is Arthur.’

 

***

  
   He was running for a second time today. With time, he figured, running would become a trait of character for him, since he’s always in a hurry. Back in the day he ran everywhere because he had a secret to keep and a king to protect. Right now, he didn’t know what was happening. He almost forgot how that felt. Being lost. After his friend’s death everything went very quiet. Not the world, no. There were countless wars and he even participated in some, if he could find something worth fighting for. He traveled to the continent and back to Britain, and he’s helped built America, as he crossed the sea with the Pilgrims. He soon abandoned the American continent though, because he was hoping to build something better out of it, whilst it ended up pretty much as judgemental and conceited as Europe. He traveled to Asia too - and he loved the people and the atmosphere, he learned their languages, but he never really felt he fit in. So whatever he did he always ended up visiting the lake. Waiting. Seemingly living, but truly balancing on the edge of his duty to Arthur and an overpowering lack of will to continue it all.

 

   But Arthur. Yes. His Arthur. His best friend. The Once and Future King. The one reason why he managed to last all those years on Earth. He has come back. Merlin didn’t even have time to be happy yet. To feast, to rejoice! Was this actually happening? Was he seeing things? Was it an evil sorcerer putting images into his mind? Did he actually see Arthur? And hear him? What the hell was going on?! His mind was racing and he couldn’t even begin to start thinking clearly. It struck him that despite his personal happiness, a tragedy has happened. The royal family was dead or at least severely injured. That’s horrible. He’s met the Queen a few times. Hell, he even worked with the Queen! Elizabeth II was a truck driver and mechanic during World War II, and Merlin, being too old to serve in the army, decided to finally get a driving license, and help in any way he could. That’s how they met, and that’s how he got to know her better. She was a strong but gentle woman. He appreciated her a lot, and her suffering from any harm, no matter how happy for Arthur he was, brought him nothing but pain.

 

   And so, with his thoughts going 100 miles per hour along with his feet and in result - his heart, which seemed to be trying to keep up with his mind, he was basically throwing envelopes into people’s letterboxes. He’s had several of them staring curiously at him through their windows. One man, Mr. Huffing, who is known for being the most talkative person in the neighbourhood, ran out of his house and tried to run after Merlin, failing miserably. He was so desperate to complain and rant to the postman, he quite literally chased Merlin on the pavement, yelling incoherently, or perhaps yelling something understandable, but Merlin was so caught up in his own thoughts he couldn’t make out a word. And so having delivered mail to all houses but two, he already was preparing himself for, this time continuous, run back to the Browns. Finally, he was done. He turned on his heel, and started running. Just as he did, the water-sprinklers started working, and he felt the first water hit his face. He quickly checked the street for cars, and decided to cross it. Arthur already got wet today, Merlin doesn’t have to match him in everything, does he? He let out a heavy sigh. Could today get any more complicated?

_Of course it could. And it just did._

His left leg got caught up in the kerb, and his right leg… Oh well, it got caught up in his left leg. He stretched his arms in front of himself a little too late, and felt his chest, and also partially face, hit the pavement. Ouch. That hurt. A LOT. But more importantly. What.the.hell.was.that. He heard a voice. But it couldn’t have been. NOONONO, that’s impossible, you old goat, he scolded himself. And yet…

_Oh by the Gods, Merlin, do stand up. Quit acting like a child._

Merlin rushed to his feet. ‘Kilgharrah?!’ His thoughts yelled.

_Well, yes. That wasn’t so difficult, was it, now? No need to yell, youn…_

Merlin heard a raspy, a little too familiar laugh resonate in his head.

_I was about to call you ‘young warlock’. But then I realised, you’re very, very old now, Merlin._  
‘Hey! That’s not fair.’ Merlin thought back. He was standing still and trying to focus to make something out of what had just happened.

_Don’t bother. I can hear all you can hear. I can see all you can see. And most of all, I know all your thoughts, warlock, for I reside inside your mind._

This...this is new. Merlin had very mixed feelings about this particular situation. On one hand, with the sudden appearance of Arthur, he could definitely use the dragon’s guidance and all wrongdoings aside, his dragonlord nature missed the presence of a dragon. But Kilgharrah? First of all, alongside Arthur and all of Merlin’s old friends, the Great Dragon was dead, as he passed away not long after the Once and Future King. Second of all, knowing Merlin’s thoughts isn’t a threat, since he couldn’t share them with anyone but Merlin himself, however, Kilgharrah was sarcastic, picky and judgemental to say the least. He could only hope, the dragon wouldn’t rant inside his very head about how stupid Merlin’s ideas were.

‘Why...How did you get here, Kilgharrah? What is happening? Are you here to help me?’ Merlin directed the thought towards said dragon.

_Oh well. It seems clear that since you’re the only one that can hear me, it’s your need of my counseling that brought me here._

Merlin rolled his eyes, both mentally and physically.

_I have awoken from a centuries long sleep, along with the Once and Future King. You have failed to save him from his first demise and condemned the world for years of suffering, but it appears that fate has given us all another chance to make right what once has been done wrong._

Merlin felt guilt wash over him. He saw images that crept into his subconscious and projected themselves every night, during a dream. It was always the same thing. Morgana killing people with magic. Mordred piercing Arthur with his blade. Himself killing Morgana. Arthur dying at the lake. And then he would wake up sweaty. He was so used to dreaming about this every night, he didn’t even realise how odd and harmful it was until now. He always thought he deserved it. No. He knew he deserved it. And Kilgharrah’s words only made him feel worse.  
‘But Kilgharrah, how did this happen? What happened to the royal family and why is Arthur back? And why out of all places are you inside of my head?’ Merlin thought impatiently.

_Now, now. First of all, you might want to start walking, warlock. You cannot keep your king waiting for too long, after all._

Merlin suddenly remembered himself. And hating to admit he’s actually fulfilling the dragon’s orders, he started half-running again.

_The first question I do not know the answer to, I’m afraid. The tragedy that death is or the blessing that resurrection brings are still beyond my knowledge. Have I woken up earlier I might have caught a glimpse of what or whom is behind this, but I do not possess such knowledge. You are going to have to find answers yourself._

Oh well that’s just great. Merlin scoffed mentally. If the dragon has heard that, he gracefully ignored it.

_My being here, on the other hand, is a question most easy to answer. I am a dragon, warlock. A dragon you had a true dragonlord-like connection with. My last task in this realm was to help you create Albion. That task has not been fulfilled. That has caused my soul to not enter the magical realms, but stay hidden underneath the ground in a permanent slumber, only to be woken by fate-given chance to see my destiny rightfully take place._

That’s something. New, but at least understandable. Merlin was now a little calmer knowing that Kilgharrah was here to help. That he wasn’t alone in this peculiar situation. That he had another magical being to turn to in times of trouble. And those were most definitely ahead.

_As for the area I occupy - your head, Merlin. I might be still here, but I am very weak. You must know, that I will not always listen to what is happening, and you will be forced to call on me, when in need of my guidance. When I am not here, I shall be sleeping. I need to rest a lot, in order to maintain my presence in this realm for me residing in your mind is not done by my choice but by lack of thereof. My lack of strength has forced me to choose a vessel. And you seemed the only reasonable choice. Surely, you must understand._

Merlin understood the dragon completely. He knew everything about being tired all the time. And he was actually glad, that the dragon wasn’t going to be there to see everything.

_As for now, you know what you must do. And I shall rest until you need me._

‘I understand. Thank you, Kilgharrah. It’s good to have you back’ Merlin smiled mentally.

_And it does feel good to be able to berate and guide you once again, warlock._

   Merlin could hear a trace of amusement, and himself let out a little laugh. The dragon must have fallen asleep instantly, because his mind turned to racing thoughts once again. He liked the fact, that he had an ally in all this, but this also made things even more complicated. Whatever he was expecting to happen when Arthur came back, it wasn’t this. He’s not disappointed, no. But he certainly isn’t prepared for all this either. Hundreds of years have passed and yet he finds himself as lost and confused as he was all those years ago, watching Arthur’s dead body float on the lake’s surface. To be honest, after all this time, Merlin has given up hope. He took up many jobs, educated himself in countless studies, met thousands of people. And after seeing how predictable life truly is, how dull, how typical the world is, when magic is lost and forgotten, he has lost all hope in ever seeing the planet live and thrive again. He knew magic was hidden somewhere, waiting to be found. But there was no one willing to seek it. And Merlin was too tired. He was just so tired. Yes, he waited. But to tell the truth that only ever helped drown his own guilt.

 

   Arthur’s resurrection didn’t bring him his years back. He didn’t feel a sudden rush of energy fill him, he didn’t lose his white beard or traces of bitterness, the world has put in his old mind. If anything, he felt like he’s aged a few years more in an instant. The burden on his shoulders felt as heavy as ever and it was a miracle his legs were not failing him yet. Speaking of which, they have finally brought him onto Wilde Street. He could see the Browns’ house shimmering in the strong afternoon sun. The weather seemed so peculiar, and very much unlike Great Britain. Perhaps it was too, connected with whatever was happening.

 

   He made it to the door. His heart was racing from the half running and it didn’t settle for a second. He knocked. Mrs. Brown opened her door, looking solemn.

‘Oh, it’s you Mr. Ealdor. Do come in. We’ve tried giving your son dinner, but he refused to eat. I don’t think he trusts us.’ Merlin walked inside, and followed the woman to the living room. He could feel the atmosphere in the house has changed.

‘He does that, don’t worry. I’ll feed him when we get home. I hope he hasn’t caused much trouble?’ Merlin asked and felt anxious that perhaps something magical has happened in the time of his absence.

‘Oh, no, it’s not him.’ Mrs. Brown forced a smile. ‘But we listened to your advice and watched the news’ She said, trying to hide how thick with emotion her voice was. Upon entering the living room, the first sight that caught Merlin’s eyes was Mr. Brown’s face. It was a shade of bright red, as he was visibly and continuously crying, occasionally blowing his nose into a tissue. It seems the family has realised the full extent of the tragedy that took place.

 

   ‘I’m very sorry. I know how emotional and difficult this is. But could you please tell me what exactly happened?’ Merlin whispered towards Mrs. Brown as he warily eyed Arthur - now sitting on the floor, holding his legs to his chest, watching everyone with fear and confusion in his eyes. His meal stood on the table next to him untouched, proving the truthfulness of Mrs. Brown’s words.

‘The news didn’t report much’ She said and sighed heavily.’All that is know for sure is that Queen Elizabeth…’ She stopped to take a deep breath. ‘And every single direct descendant to the throne are dead. They’re all dead. They were found dead this morning in their beds. That’s all we know.’ Merlin nodded in Mrs. Brown’s direction, thanked her for the piece of information, and for finding and taking care of his ‘son’. ‘It’s alright. We were just lucky to find him. You can take him whenever you want. I know it can take time. Just…’She hesitated. ‘Please don’t talk to my husband. He likes to take difficult things on his own, and wouldn’t want to be bothered.’ Merlin thanked her again and proceeded to cross the room to where Arthur was sitting.

‘Oi, mate.’ He whispered, crouching beside him. Then to Arthur’s utter surprise, Merlin beamed at him cheerfully. ‘It’s time to take you home.’


	4. Confusion, Clarification, and More Confusion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Like I said before, this chapter is shorter again. The next one will be longer, I can promise you that, because it's already written. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the TV show 'Merlin' or any of its characters.

   The sun was slowly setting. Despite waking very late, Merlin felt like this was one of the longest days he’s ever had in his life. He now had a few minutes for himself, as he pushed a still very fearful and unremembering Arthur into his bathroom, to take a shower. He briefly showed him how the shower worked, gently asked him not to ask questions quite yet, only to listen, and believe him. He was too tired to do this now. But then again, wasn’t he always? He looked out of his window. The main reason he bought this particular apartment was that he had a direct view of the Avalon lake from his window. He gazed at the sunset orange colour of the waters. For all that he’s traveled, the past few years he’s spent watching the lake and getting more and more impatient.

   He could now hear water running in the shower. The sound has put a small smile on his lips. That meant that his friend had obtained a brand new, 21st century skill - handling the shower. Merlin fully realised that bringing Arthur in his entirety back is not going to be as easy as accidentally finding him at the Browns’. He already experienced complications of that process. Arthur did not want to leave the family’s house. Only after a tiny, invisible magic trick, that the couple missed, while trying to convince Arthur to leave with his father, did he agree to leave. The controlling charm was only ever possible in this situation because Arthur’s will has not been set yet, due to his lack of memories. Considering that, Merlin found it absolutely peculiar, that Arthur has been somehow - well - programmed, with modern English. Not that he minded. He just wondered, what kind of magical deity has put as much thought process into bringing him to life to somehow engrave the language into his mind, and yet left him with no identity. What the hell was up with that anyway? Why on the bloody earth wouldn’t he remember?

   Now, now, Merlin told himself. He was making himself angry. And he couldn’t, because considering how terrified Arthur is, he needed to be the calmest of people right now. The water had stopped running. The warlock suddenly remembered that he somehow had to break to this kid that he, in fact, is not his father. Or perhaps he could somehow go over that fact? The last thing he needed right now was the fresh-out-of-the-lake Arthur mistrusting him. The bathroom door opened. A very wet mop of blond hair showed in the doorway. Arthur was still dressed in the clothes he got from the Browns, and apparently didn’t know how to properly dry his hair. Merlin wondered whether this was what he looked like, when he left the lake. Well, he definitely was more naked at that particular event, as Merlin managed to find out from little Ricky. Arthur scanned the room, his eyes finally resting on Merlin. And to the latter’s surprise it was the former who spoke first.

   ‘So… you’re my dad? I’m… mentally handicapped?’ He questioned.

His voice trembled underneath a pretend confidence, which made Arthur seem very childlike, and also made Merlin’s heart hurt a lot.

‘Uh, right, about that…’ Merlin stammered as he tried to begin his explanation. So there was no avoiding this topic, he mused to himself. Is there any way he could do this without frightening his friend even more? ‘I was lying about that part. We’re not related. And you’re not handicapped’ Guess not.’I only said that because you have always been very dear to me - a best friend, and i have waited for you for a long time. I made it up on the spot. I had to figure out how to take you home. Please, believe me, Arthur.’ Unexpected tears stung his eyes, as he addressed his friend by his name. He watched his face intently, waiting for a reaction. Arthur let out a deep sigh. He slouched his shoulders and stumbled to the bed, sat on its side and hid his face in his hands.

   There was a heavy silence between the two. Merlin didn’t dare to do as much as breathe heavily, not to startle the young man. When Arthur spoke again, the abruptness of his question made the warlock jump.

‘What’s your name?’ Asking that, Arthur shuffled on the bed so that he could watch the old postman.

‘Merlin.’ Came the curt answer.

‘Merlin. Weren’t you a servant once? It kinda rings a bell’ Arthur continued with a curious look at the sorcerer’s face. Merlin let out a sigh of relief, and a smile graced his features.

‘Oh, yes. Yes I was.’ He said, as he made his way to stand closer to the bed. ‘I was the clumsiest and laziest servant Camelot has ever known. And I was your servant Arthur. And I wouldn’t change it for anything.’ He now felt tears building in his eyes, and he knew his friend could clearly see that. Arthur blinked, unsure. He crossed his arms and raised his chin up, to add himself some confidence. Merlin’s sudden emotions made the atmosphere even more dense than it was.

   ‘Camelot? Is that where I’m from? Where is it? And why am I here?’

Merlin swallowed hard. ‘Yes. It was our home. But it’s been gone for hundreds of years now. It doesn’t exist anymore. You were gone for… for so long Arthur. And I’ve been waiting for you. And fate has finally kept its promise and brought you back.’ Merlin smiled gently at his friend, as if letting him know, that he can ask about anything he wants.

‘Alright. That was weird, but I get it. You said - at least that’s what I managed to make out of it - that you were my servant. Did that make me some kind of a lord? Master? Prince? King? What kinda position made me have a servant? And whatever it was I was doing…’ He hesitated. ‘Was I any good in it?’ He ended that question with a pout of his lips, making Merlin laugh out loud. The sudden barking sound startled the young boy, and he withdrew his head, with a horribly typical for Camelot’s Prat Number One, dismissive surprise.

‘Oh by the gods, Arthur. You were the prattiest prince I’ve ever met. When we first met I hated you. But it sooner or later turned out you were very loving and caring of your people and even more of the ones by your side. You could make good decisions and take the consequences of the bad ones. Sometimes you needed a little push, even if you didn’t know about it. You were the greatest knight Camelot has ever known. A great tactician and an undefeatable warrior. In the end, you made a wonderful king.’ Affection was thick in Merlin’s voice. And during his speech, Arthur watched with amazement the emotions playing on Merlin’s face. He understood everything he heard. But remembering was a different story.

   Being in deep thought, Arthur unknowingly put a finger on his lips. He then noticed, that this movement must be familiar to the man in front of him, as he started blinking away the tears in his eyes. He looked into those eyes. The blue colours - the fresh, young and energetic one and the tired, bleak and tinged with time one met in an emotional gaze, and Arthur felt all of his fear leave him. The connection between the two sprung to life and Arthur felt as if he’s looked into those eyes a hundred times before. It seemed like those eyes were the last thing he saw before he woke up. Or before he fell asleep. Or perhaps he’s been seeing them the entire time in his sleep. He felt his muscles relax and his mind slowly calm down. He was no longer afraid. The change in him must have been visible, because the postman seemed instantly alarmed. Arthur then noticed that the man before him was standing still in his jacket, shoes, with a hat on and his bag over his shoulder. He realised that whatever was happening, he was this man’s number one priority.

‘So tell me...Merlin’ He started, as he sprawled on the bed, his arms once again crossed on his chest. ‘Why did I - The greatest knight, the king, as you said, of Camelot - have the worst servant in the history of the kingdom?’

Merlin scoffed and opened his mouth in surprise, and as if forgetting himself, he blurted out ‘Oh, I don’t know, Arthur. Why did the greatest sorcerer to ever live agree to serve the biggest prat the country’s ever seen?’ It was too late for Merlin to duck, as Arthur sent a pillow flying, aiming at his head, without hesitation.

***

   The clock had just struck 3 a.m. Mrs. Brown knew that she ought to have gone to sleep at least three hours ago. But her work was very important to her, and she could not leave this assignment unfinished. She wouldn’t be able to sleep if she hadn’t done it anyway. For her, her work was not only money, it was her passion. And because she liked to spend as much daytime as she could with her family, she sometimes stayed the night to finish some tasks. This night was more difficult than the others. The events of day were absolutely exhausting, and she kept yawning and rubbing her eyes. Luckily, she only had one last line of code to write. There it was. She was done. She could finally join her husband in bed. But then she heard something. Footsteps in the hallway. Who could this be? Perhaps one of the kids had a nightmare. It was a tough day for them too. She hid behind a wall, unsure of who was coming, and peeked through a crack in the door.

   When she recognised the silhouette of her husband, she swung the doors opened, scaring him into a jump.

’Ronald, what are you doing here this late? You scared me!’ She said in a half-whisper.

‘You scared me too, darling. And I was just worried about you. I don’t want you to stay the night again, especially after a day like this.’ He said in a similar tone, squinting his eyes from the light coming from the living room.

‘Oh, honey.’ Mrs. Brown said, her features easing. She hugged her husband tightly, and addressed his worries. ‘I’m fine. I’ve just finished. And thank you’ she smiled gently and her husband returned the smile. She took a few steps back into the living room and turned off the light. She then walked into the corridor to meet her husband and shivered. One look at her husband was enough for her to know that he feels the same thing. A piercing cold surrounded them, and they caught onto each other in search of heat. As they eyes met they shared the emotions of fear and utter confusion.

  Then they heard a loud, shrill scream of their son. Scrambling to their feet, ignoring the now numbing cold and stumbling on the stairs they ran into his room. Mr. Brown got in first. And as soon as he did he got pinned to the wall by what seemed like a gash of black smoke. He could feel it choking him, getting inside his ears, nose and mouth, freezing him on the inside. Little Ricky was being held by the smoke too, almost entirely frozen now. Mrs. Brown let out a scream at the sight before her. Gemma ran into the room and starting to hyperventilate, grabbed her mother.

 _‘WHERE IS HE?’_ A deep and unnerving voice asked. It seemed he wasn’t speaking to them at all. It seemed to them they were the only ones hearing it, inside their heads.

_‘WHERE IS THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING?’_


	5. Visions and Lakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heeere it is! Like I said, longer. If you are even more confused as to what is happening, after reading this, i ask for your patience. Explanation will come, because I have already planned it all out! Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the tv show 'Merlin' or any of its characters.

   The next morning greeted Merlin with a splitting headache. He squinted his eyes and tried to look around his room, but the light was too strong. Sitting on his bed, he squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed them a couple times, trying to wake himself up. He hid his face in his hands, arching his back, and resting his head on his knees. For the first time his sleep was dreamless. But it was also restless. He found himself more exhausted than last evening. Merlin decided to stay in this position for a while longer, and go through yesterday’s events once more. The royal family died. Arthur was back. Arthur lost his memory, but on certain circumstances he would remember moments or words from his past life.

   Merlin had no idea what Arthur’s trigger was. He didn’t know how to bring his memories back. It hurt his heart a lot more than he would like to admit. He looked at his friend with longing and love, while the eyes that looked back at him, though no longer scared, were uncertain and unrecognizing. Last evening, they were both too tired to continue and agreed to get some rest. Merlin gave his friend some leftover bread and ham for dinner, and offered him his own bed. It quickly turned out, that years of sleep do not, in fact, diminish one’s stubbornness in the slightest. Arthur hit that authoritative prince tone, and gently explained to Merlin, that he doesn’t care how close friends they are, or how the old man used to be his servant, to him, right now, he was just that - an old man, who offered him help, his home and food, and there was no way he was taking his bed. A very resigned Merlin forwent further argument, took a shower, and offered Arthur a couple pillows, a mattress and a sleeping bag. He wasn’t willing to show how grateful towards Arthur he was, but he fully realised his old bones would be killing him, were he to sleep on the floor.

   ‘Is everything alright?’ A familiar voice resonated in the still and quiet apartment.

‘Yes, it is fine.’ Merlin answered his, apparently already awake, worried friend.

‘You don’t look fine’ An accusatory tone retorted. Merlin opened his eyes and looked down. Arthur was frowning at him, clearly displeased with being dismissed.

‘Wait until you’re as old as I am, and we’ll see whether waking up is easy for you’ Merlin sneered. He threw the covers off his legs, and jumped to stand up, getting a head rush and feeling dizzy. He had to sit back down again.

‘It’s not my fault you’re old’ Merlin could hear Arthur scramble from his sleeping bag. The old man couldn’t turn around or generally move at the moment so he resorted to glaring at the wall in front of him. ‘But to think, how horrible for you, sleeping on the floor would have been.’ Arthur let out a fake sigh, and moved to stand next to Merlin. The young man gently grasped postman’s arm, helped him stand up, and didn’t let go of his arm, until he was sure, the other man was standing firmly. He then straightened himself and looked Merlin in the eyes. ‘Honestly, how did you even manage without me?’ His pretend seriousness was betrayed by the smirk on his lips. Merlin scowled and walked around Arthur, ignoring his remarks. ‘You might be a sorcerer, but you certainly lack some magic words.’ The young man scoffed. Merlin turned on his heel to snap something equally playful, but Arthur beat him to it. ‘The term you’re looking for is ‘thank you’, I presume?’ Arthur raised his eyebrows in pretend wistfulness. Merlin sighed and pursed his lips. At least one of them was having an exceptionally good day.

***

   They ate breakfast in silence. Arthur seemed even more starving than he was the day before. Merlin decided that at least a while of peace together will do them both good. But as soon as he stopped eating a strong feeling of foreboding hit him and he realised there was no more time to waste.

_Are you just realising that now, warlock?_

Even though the voice still made him uneasy, Kilgarrah’s remark wasn’t as much of a surprise now that Merlin was prepared to hear from him anytime. ‘Tell me, Kilgarrah, are you being sarcastic on purpose or is it permanently written into your existence?’

_I believe in destiny._

‘Wow, thanks the Great Dragon, that is such a straight answer, exactly what I was hoping for.’

_That was exceptionally rude, Merlin. I might no longer plant fear in men’s hearts with my presence, but I still am a great magical being you should respect._

‘You’re in my head. No one but you can hear me. What can you do about it?’

_Oh by the Goddess, did you get bitter, Merlin!_

   With those words Kilgharrah let out a gasp of surprise. Merlin sighed heavily. ‘I’m sorry, Kilgharrah. I just don’t understand why everyone feels like giving me attitude today.’ The dragon laughed merrily.

_The King has been with you for no more than a day, but he already is giving you a hard time? You must be the one to bring it out in him, warlock!_

The dragon chuckled for a while more, then got serious once again.

_Enough of this. You knew this wouldn’t be easy, Merlin._

‘I did. But no one told me it was going to be this difficult either’

_Oh but the quest has only just begun-_

‘You’re only making this worse, Kilgharrah!’ Merlin raised his mental voice. The dragon went quiet for a while, thinking.

_Ask Arthur about his dreams. Perhaps his dreams will turn out to be memories. Perhaps whoever woke him up, might try to help him regain himself. Talk to him, warlock. No matter how difficult it is for either of you. Talk._

‘Thank you, Kilgharrah.’ Merlin sighed once again. ‘What do you think we should do next?’ He asked. Unfortunately, his question has met with silence. ‘Kilgharrah? Kilgharrah?!’ His thoughts yelled.

_Oh by the gods Merlin, i was already sleeping! Let me rest!_

‘I can’t believe you fell asleep on me like that. Couldn’t you just say you’re going to sleep?’ Once again, there was no answer whatsoever. ‘Oh now that’s just extraordinary, really.’

   He left his mind and looked at the man in front of him. On the other side of the kitchen table, sat Arthur, who has finished eating ten minutes ago, and now was staring at Merlin with a bewildered look on his face.

‘Why… are you staring, Arthur?’ Merlin asked, frowning. Arthur’s jaw dropped and an incoherent sound left his mouth. ‘Come again?’ The postman added.

‘You just. I have been asking you a question for the past ten minutes, and instead of answering, you kept staring at me and making different faces… Call me whatever you want, but there is something really wrong with you, mate.’ Arthur shaked his head in disapproval, and let out a breath. Merlin laughed loudly. Now Arthur was questioning his sanity even more.

‘I was having a conversation inside of my head. The Great Dragon, Kilgharrah, has woken from a slumber, just like you, in order to help our cause.’ Merlin managed, as he fought to calm himself down. The idea of what he must have looked like to Arthur seemed absolutely hilarious to him, and he grinned once more.

‘Yeah, right. Got it. Because that’s so obvious.’ Arthur scoffed.

‘Oh cut it out. If you had your memories you would know what I’m talking about. The Great Dragon was my friend, but he too, once unleashed his rage upon Camelot, killing a lot of people and destroying their homes.’ Merlin visibly saddened, as images of those events crept into his mind. Arthur looked into his eyes, and the sadness he found there let him breathless. The old man’s story was so full of grief, he couldn’t help but feel it too.

   It felt like smoke. He could smell flesh burning, his lungs filled with the biting stench, suffocating him.

And then he saw flames. His sudden intake of breath alarmed Merlin, and he rushed to his friends side. Images flashed before Arthur’s eyes, and he fought for every breath he took.

‘The Great Dragon has been released!’ _Screams, death, fire, steel and claws._ ‘The dragonlord might be our only chance, Sire’ Said an old man. ‘I will not allow it. We must deal with the beast ourselves.’ A man in a crown retorted. _Mischief, lies, secret quest, Balinor, a black haired boy crying._ ‘No man is worth your tears’ He found himself consoling the boy. ‘You certainly aren’t’ A weak grin, and a set of teary blue eyes. _Victory, loss._

   Arthur woke up on the floor, sweaty, his head aching like never before, with an extremely concerned Merlin above him.

‘...Arthur? Oh thank the gods’ The sigh of relief that left the old man’s chest upon seeing that his friend was alright was so strong it made him feel slightly dizzy. Panting, Arthur raised himself on his elbows and sat down to face Merlin.

‘I saw it. The death. The grief. The sadness. The fear. The lost hope.’ He stopped to catch a breath. Meanwhile, the old warlock was listening to his every word intently. ‘It was horrible. I saw all of it, and from what I think you will tell me, that was Camelot being burned to the ground. And I believe you. And I accept it as the truth about me and my past.’ Arthur looked the man in the eye. ‘But by the gods Merlin… It didn’t feel real. No matter how much I want it to feel like it’s a part of me. I don’t recognize the faces I saw. I can’t tell where I was or who said what. I’m so sorry.’ He breathed out and hid his head between his knees to calm himself down.

   Merlin’s heart ached horribly. He knew what Arthur saw. He knew he saw his loved ones, and he now knew he didn’t recognize their faces. He wondered whether he saw his young self. Or his father. The pain in his heart was growing stronger, if possible. Arthur never found out that the man they saw die on their quest to save Camelot from Kilgharrah, was Merlin’s father. He found himself wishing so bad for Arthur to remember and recognize his face. He wanted his friend back so bad. He never had a chance to talk about his magic to Arthur. And now that he does, Arthur isn’t himself. And once again, they had more pressing issues upon them.

   ‘Arthur’ Merlin murmured. The man was still visibly shaking and failed to hear his name. ‘Arthur’ The sorcerer repeated loudly. This time his call met with a reaction. Arthur raised his head to look at Merlin, with a curious yet tired look on his face. ‘I know it’s a lot. And I can see how difficult this is for you. But we have to go on. We know very little, and have even less time to gain knowledge.’ Merlin’s features were full of empathy and understanding, and Arthur nodded his head, signaling him to continue speaking. ‘I have to ask you a few questions. First… Can you tell me if there was anything, anything you felt might be the reason, the trigger for your past-life memories?’ Arthur has stopped shaking by now, and was only breathing heavier than usually. He squeezed his eyes shut in order to think about what happened. He went over the situation and the vision over and over again and yet he felt like each time there was something missing. Something obvious was slipping through his fingers and he couldn’t figure out what it was.

‘I’m sorry’ He managed, in a raspy voice. ‘I have no idea.’

   Merlin nodded in acceptance and looked as if this was the answer he expected to hear.

‘I have one more question. Did you dream last night?’ Though Merlin’s tone was dead serious, Arthur looked at him quizzically. That sounded ridiculous for the young man. Weren’t dreams just dreams? Perhaps with a sorcerer at your side, everything was extraordinary. That made him wonder, just how peculiar his life as a king must have been.

‘I saw the lake in my dream. The lake was the first thing I saw and the first thing I remember, being in this body. Do you think my dreams could be more than just memories? That they could mean something?’ Arthur asked, doing his best not to sound fearful.

‘I’m sure they do. All dreams have a meaning. It only depends on how vague or figurative they are. That’s what makes them sometimes difficult to understand. Was there anything else? Any detail at all?’ Merlin answered, anticipation gracing his features.

‘I think… again, I THINK - I saw a woman. I couldn’t see her face. Bright white light was emanating from her entire silhouette. She was pointing to something buried deep in the water. It was shiny, long, and pointy. Seemed like a sword. That’s all.’ Arthur shrugged, showing there was really nothing more to his dream. Merlin on the other hand, smacked his own forehead with an open palm.

‘Oh I am so stupid aren’t I. I am the stupidest creature to ever walk this planet. The Excalibur!’ He exclaimed excitedly.

‘The excawhat?’ Arthur blurted out. Merlin was now laughing to himself.

‘Oh there’s no time to explain. There is no time. We have to go now, and get back to the lake. Your sword is waiting for you to retrieve it’.

***

   Not being sure about Arthur’s physical state yet, Merlin decided to take a brisk walk, instead of teleporting them. And so, once again, the sorcerer was half-running his way somewhere. They walked their way through the streets and the forest and with time they reached the brink of the water. As soon as they did, Merlin asked Arthur to look out for any unwanted visitors. Then, using the Old Language, he called on the sword. But it didn’t move. Merlin tried once again, and received the same reaction.

‘Is something wrong?’ Arthur’s concerned voice reached him, from a couple feet away.

‘I’m working on it, be patient!’ Merlin snapped, and tried to call on the sword once again. Nothing changed. In a desperate and risky act, Merlin called on the Lady of the Lake instead.

The water seemed to have started boiling, and a long, bright white figure of the Lady of the Lake emerged from the water. To Merlin’s relief, she was holding the Excalibur in her right hand.

_Welcome to the Lake of Avalon, Emrys._

Her voice resonated around them and soothed their senses, making them feel calm and safe. ‘I am sorry for waking you, My Lady’ Merlin said, bowing deeply. ‘But my calls on the sword have failed, and I didn’t know what to do.’

_It is fine. It was I, who made it impossible for you to call on the sword. I have a very important message for you, Emrys. You must know, that the awakening of your king was not my doing. I felt him wake, but I also felt other forces at work._

‘What do you mean? Was it the evil forces that brought him back?’ Merlin asked, full of concern. A shiver went down his spine, because the Lady’s imposing presence was difficult to bear.

_I am not omniscient, my magical friend. But I can warn you - do not take things for granted, and be wary of whom it is you put your trust in. If one of its kind has been waken, the other shall not remain still._

   As she said her last words, the sword slid across the surface of the water towards Merlin. By the time it reached him, The Lady was already gone. Merlin reached for the sword and caught it right when it touched the ground. He felt heat building in his body, and collapsed to the floor. He was aware of his situation enough to see Arthur run towards him, yelling. He grabbed the sword and pulled it from Merlin’s hand, sensing that the touch of it was the reason for his sudden fall. He was right. As soon as the Excalibur left Merlin’s hand, the heat left his body.

’I had a vision.’ The sorcerer explained.

‘Was it like mine? Did you remember something?’ A very worried Arthur asked. He was now pulling Merlin to stand beside him. The sun was shining right above Arthur’s head. The wet sword glistened in its light. Merlin took a step back to look closely at his friend. With the mighty sword in his hand, and puffing his chest from the short run, his presence shouted the word ‘king’.

   ‘No. I believe it to be a message from the Lady of the Lake. A message she couldn’t convey in her words.’ He stopped to think for a while, making Arthur impatient.

‘Do go on. It was you that said we had little time!’ He exclaimed.

‘I saw black smoke. Black fog. Everywhere. I saw the house I found you in. And I saw another lake. I feel like I’ve seen it before. I feel I’ve been there more than once, but it was covered in a fog so thick, I didn’t make much of it. And then more black smoke. It was everywhere. I felt it fill me up on the inside and it felt so cold.’ Merlin’s eyes were very distant at this point. He seemed to be reliving the vision at his own pace.

‘Shouldn’t we check on the family that found me? I have no idea about visions or what they mean, but the smoke sounds dangerous, and I don’t want it to be anywhere near people who saved my life.’ Said Arthur, his eyes full of determination and care.

   This time Merlin mindlessly grabbed his friend’s arm and teleported them both to the other side of the lake. They then broke into a run, Arthur holding Merlin’s arm, to help him keep up with himself, and they reached Browns’ house in under ten minutes. As soon as they did, they exchanged terrified glances. An unexpected cold clutched their hearts and they stood together, frozen, staring. The police and the fire department have forbidden people from coming closer to the house, in order to prevent any interference from bystanders, while they were conducting an investigation. But truth be told, neither of them needed a closer look. All possible entrances to the house - windows and doors alike, were covered in thick, black moss. It’s density was startling - the black seemed to radiate and shine. Merlin felt like something was missing. Like he wasn’t getting the whole image by standing where he was. He took several steps to the side, in the corner of his eye seeing Arthur follow his steps. When they finally stood in a straight line to the house’s front door, a horrifying image emerged from the moss. Separately, it was just a creepy plant. But together it made an outline of a muzzle. The house’s outer walls were painted white. Merlin’s hands started trembling. The moss created a shape of a white dragon.


	6. Swordplay takes guts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another one! With a bit of a trigger warning - a reminder of the tags of this work. Hope you like it!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the TV show 'Merlin' or any of its characters.

   ‘Well that’s one big lizard’ Said Arthur, his mouth agape, eyebrows raised. Merlin would normally laugh at a silly statement like this one, but a thick, raw emotion overtook him. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a few deep breaths. He needed to think clearly. He needed to remain rational. He swayed in his feet. Someone has put a hand on his forearm. The gentle touch was full of worry and anticipation. It gave Merlin some confidence. If Arthur, no matter how amnesiac he would be, is by his side, they will figure it out. This is just another quest. Think, Merlin. What is missing from it being just another quest? Merlin smiled inwardly. What would Gaius say to all this? Then his eyes snapped open.

   ‘Got it. I know what we’ve got to do.’ He turned to Arthur, and gestured for them to walk away. Once they established a safe distance, Merlin started murmuring in the Old Language.

‘What on earth are you doing? What do you got? What if anyone sees you? Merlin? MERLIN!’ The boy’s frustration grew as he got no answer. When the sorcerer finished, two brown, leather cases were in his hands.

‘Patience… is something you learn with time’ Merlin smirked, to Arthur’s displeasure.

‘Merlin, what is this? Are you going to help the Browns with this? What do you call that anyway? A wallet?’ The young man furrowed his brow, looking at the new items inquiringly.

‘Talkative, are you? Why did you suddenly start talking?’

‘I am in a lot of stress right now as you perhaps noticed. That black plant-thing, the family either dead or gone… I am a caring king, you said yourself’ Merlin rolled his eyes, but continued to smile.

‘You’re not a king currently. And in what we’re about to do, you’re gonna have to shut up.’ With his last words, Merlin’s expression turned serious.

   He took the Excalibur from Arthur’s hands, and chanted a few more words. Within seconds the sword was gone. Arthur shook his head disbelievingly.

‘Here. Have one of these. This is um…’ Merlin hesitated and laughed nervously, trying to hide his embarrassment.

‘Merlin. Just tell me. I promise not to laugh.’ Arthur said in a bantering manner, stretching his hand to take the brown thing. It opened at one side. Inside was a piece of blank white paper. ‘Merlin, what exactly is the purpose of a blank piece of paper to us right now?’ Asked Arthur, confused again.

‘Oh alright.’ Merlin sighed. ‘This is psychic paper.’ Seeing Arthur beginning to open his mouth to ask yet another incredulous question, he began explaining quickly. ‘It’s based on a tv show. I don’t care what you're gooing to think about me, but this 21st century is pretty neat’ The warlock grinned. ‘And ‘Doctor Who’ is by far one of my favourite tv shows. It’s about time travel, and spaceships and aliens…’ He stopped when he saw an amused expression on Arthur’s face. ‘Oh nevermind, I just thought it was a good idea. And since it’s scientifically impossible I conjured it up with magic. It shows the person exactly what you want them to see. We have to pose as some kind of agents or police to get into the house and see what’s happened. Let’s go.’ Merlin sniffed, and lowered his head.

‘Oh, hold on a minute now.’ Arthur blocked him with his arm, and Merlin grunted, irritated. ‘So as you say you were this clumsy mess all those years ago.’ Arthur’s smirk grew as he spoke. ‘And so much time here has also made you a geek?’ He lowered his chin, to playfully peer at the man.

‘You know what.’ Merlin spoke, sadness forgotten. ‘I liked it more when your mouth wasn’t opening this frequently’ And before the other could figure out a comeback, the sorcerer stormed in the house’s direction.

***

   Merlin had no idea, what the paper showed the policemen, but it worked anyway, so he didn’t bother focusing on that. The inside of the house was covered in even more black moss. They also noticed, that the closer they got to it, the colder they felt. It radiated so much, their heads and eyes hurt. On top of that, it smelled thickly of smoke. Not casual fireplace log burning, or even the smell of a coal chimney, but the worst, sickening and unhealthy kind of it. They covered their mouths, Merlin to help himself keep a clear head, and Arthur to stop gagging. They carefully walked around the first floor of the house and found nothing other than moss. Besides the ugly plant, the house seemed intact so far. As if the family who lived there, has just left. ‘Let’s go upstairs’ Merlin mumbled. Arthur nodded, and followed the older man. Once they reached the second floor, they noticed, that the moss got thicker and thicker towards one end of the house. Following that trail they found themselves in what used to be Ricky’s room.

   It was difficult to decide, what was more horrid, the sight or the smell. They grabbed their mouths to keep the air as filtered as possible. Merlin did his best to compose himself, and Arthur backed away from the room for a moment to prevent himself from vomiting. The stench was absolutely unbearable. The air reeked of burned and rotten flesh. It stung their eyes and their headaches got worse, if possible. Once they managed to regain their senses a bit, they took a closer look at the room. And they instantly decided, that it was the sight, that was more appalling. What they saw were two people. One tall, pinned to a wall, as if glued to it. He wasn’t covered in moss and both of them saw his face clearly.

   It was Mr. Brown. There was water dripping from his fingertips. His stomach was opened, and his insides were hanging outside his belly. Some parts of his body were frozen still. There were long stretches of broken skin along his entire body, including his face. His eyes were wide open and bulging. Melted blood dripped from his wounds and onto the floor. Fluid appeared to dissolve the moss, hence the body was uncovered. The resolved parts of the man’s body were decomposing rapidly. His skin was blue and his mouth was torn along his cheeks, towards the skull. On the other side of the room, stood a tiny figure, who resembled Mr. Brown in its atrocious state. It was Little Ricky. His body was even more mauled than his father’s. His eyes burst from his skull entirely, and the upper part of his head was barely held by torn flesh. It seemed to Merlin that whatever it was, it held Ricky longer than it held his dad. The man turned around to look at his friend. Arthur looked very unhealthy. His gag reflex never seemed to leave, and he was as pale as a ghost. His eyes displayed various emotions, from dread to anger to grief. Tears fell from his eyes. He turned on his heel and ran, leaving Merlin alone in the midst of a tragedy.

   Merlin hasn’t felt this horrible in a long time. Two more people were dead because of him. People who saved his friend, who gave him shelter. Merlin couldn’t fight it anymore. A sob escaped his lungs, as he tried to squash his instincts. Tears fell from his cheeks. A muffled cry came from his lips, as he suppressed it with hands against his mouth. He trembled and swayed in his feet. He raised his head to look at the dead bodies. He made his way through the moss and stood over the child. His face twisted in grief. ‘I’m so sorry…’ He muttered. ‘I brought this upon you, I am so sorry.’ Merlin hid his face in his hands. When he looked up, he noticed a wet pink plushie lying on the floor, moss around it. It must have fallen from Ricky’s hand, as it was his favourite dragon soft toy. Merlin picked it up and quickly dried it up with magic. He hid it behind his navy blue jacket and wiped the tears on his sleeve. With a grunt, he settled down. He cannot show how weak he really is.

***

   He left the building just in time, to see Arthur retch again. He went over the yellow line and was given a paper bag by one of the policemen, who patted his back a few more times, and after a nod from Arthur, left. The warlock walked over to his sickened friend.

‘Are you alright?’ ‘How can you even ask that?’ Arthur managed weakly.

‘Did we see the same thing? By the gods, Merlin. What the hell happened?’ He tilted his head back, closed his eyes and breathed steadily.

‘I don’t know. I really don’t. I can only tell you what I think might have happened. ’

‘Do tell’ Arthur said sarcastically.

‘In my vision I saw black smoke. I think it’s the smoke that’s responsible for the damage. The moss, the dragon on the wall…’ The sorcerer hesitated.

‘The dead bodies.’ Finished Arthur, peeking at him with one eye open.

‘Yes. The bodies. Here’s what I think happened. The black smoke entered their bodies through their mouths, ears, noses and froze their insides.That’s what damaged their bodies so much. Ice has more volume than water, so it ripped them apart from the inside.’ As if answering Merlin’s words, Arthur has bent over once again, preparing his paper bag. But he managed to control his urges. He stood up and threw the dirty bag into a nearby trash can.

   ‘And the women? Where are they?’ Arthur asked.

‘I have no idea.’ Silence fell between the two. Both of them stared off into the distance, thinking. Thoughts were rushing through their minds as each of them blamed themselves for the deaths. Arthur knew all this had something to do with his arrival to this world. These people rescued him, and now they were dead. Merlin on the other hand was convinced of his own fault. He should have known better. He should have been more wary. And above all, had he succeeded to create Albion all those years ago, none of this would be happening now.

‘I think we should head home’ It was the old man, who broke the silence. Arthur inclined his head in agreement and they started walking towards Merlin’s apartment.

***

   They made some casual grocery shopping, since Arthur ate at least a half of Merlin’s stored fridge food in two days. They got into the apartment, unloaded the bags and Merlin began preparing lunch. It was difficult to imagine that all that’s happened was merely the morning. The sorcerer wasn’t quite eager to find out what fate has prepared for them for the rest of the day. Once lunch was done, and they ate together, still silent, Arthur offered to clean up. Merlin had to pretend that didn’t surprise him, and let his friend take charge in the kitchen. When he noticed just how clumsy and unskilled the boy is, he turned to the bed and decided to lay down for a while and think about everything once again.

   By the time Arthur had finished, Merlin was fast asleep on his bed, snoring. Seeing that, the young man smiled gently and decided to let his older friend rest for now. He too felt overwhelmed. He also felt slightly unwell, and yearned for some fresh air. Then he noticed the sword lying next to the bed. He quickly took off his pillowcase and wrapped it around the weapon. He clutched it close to his body, and quietly left the apartment, making sure to take the keys and leave the sleeping man safe. Then he proceeded to head towards the forest, for the second time today. Once he got there, he made sure there was nobody nearby to see or hear him.

   He threw the pillowcase on the ground, and held the sword in front of him, both of his hands on the hilt. Several rays of sunshine found their way through the tree crown and played on the length of the sword. Arthur couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of it. Carefully, he began swinging it. Gaining speed and grace with every move, Arthur felt mesmerized and caught in the moment entirely. His hands and legs found their places without much thought, as if sword-fight has always been inside his mind, as if it was something you could never forget how to do. He jumped, and rolled and swished and felt as happy as ever. His worries left him, and he started laughing joyfully.

   When he finally dropped to his knees, too tired to continue and drenched in sweat, he had no idea how long he’s spent practising. He looked around, and laughter died on his lips. He breathed heavily, sword still in hand. He heard birds chirping, but the sky was now covered in clouds, sun nowhere to be seen. The air got colder and the wind began whistling. Everything seemed to lead to a storm. Arthur shivered. He was alone. In the middle of the forest. He didn’t remember his past life, but he knew for sure. He has never felt lonelier than in this moment.

   He decided to hurry up and head back, before the rain catches him. He collected his pillowcase, draped it over the sword, and began jogging towards the small block. He was, however, unlucky. Just as he left the forest, he was met by a downpour. The water felt freezing cold on his still warm from the exercise skin. Before he got into the building, he was soaking wet. At least he wasn’t sweaty anymore, he mused. Arthur began scrambling for keys, when someone opened the door from the inside.

   Merlin stood in the doorway, fright on his face. But as soon as he saw Arthur alive and well, even if wet, his muscles relaxed. That state didn’t last long, though. Anger started building on his face, but before he managed to open his mouth, Arthur pushed through the door beside him, and lay the sword on the floor.

‘Before you berate me, for going somewhere alone and being irresponsible, you must know, that I did it because I thought…’ The young man’s thoughts seemed to trail off for a while, as he squeezed his eyes, and wipe his face with his hand. He was still wet and cold. ‘You had a vision when you touched the sword. And you said it was MY sword, not yours. I thought that perhaps I would see something. Perhaps I would remember. But I didn’t. But I did find out something.’

‘What is it? What did you find out?’ Asked Merlin, his anger no longer present.

‘It’s all still in me. Some things I do not realizing I used to do it. I held this sword and somehow my body knew exactly what to do. If you hadn’t told me it was mine, I wouldn’t have known it used to be a part of me. That means that all those things are still in me.’ WIth those words, Arthur pointed to his chest, looking at Merlin with hope in his eyes.

‘Then how do we access it? How do we get to it? From what I understand you didn’t suddenly remember how to fight. Unlike the vision you had this morning, it was there already.’ Merlin paced into the kitchen, and looked at the foul weather.

‘I really don’t know how that works. You’re supposed to be the expert.’ Came Arthur’s rather cocky answer. ’But what I do know, is that i need a hot shower and some fresh, dry clothes, so I’d rather you fetch me some, than stare into nothingness.’ Before Merlin could reply, the door to the bathroom has already closed. The old man shook his head sourly, and made his way to the wardrobe.

***

   Once they both showered, prepared and ate dinner, they sat at Merlin’s kitchen table, drinking tea. It turned out, that Arthur has been gone for hours. And Merlin has slept through his absence almost entirely. Some time passed, and Merlin noticed, that Arthur was quite obviously staring at him.

‘What are you doing? I wasn’t making any weird faces, was I?’ The old man asked anxiously.

‘No. You didn’t do anything, in fact. I was hoping, you would, I don’t know…’ Arthur’s face twisted in fake wonder. ‘Talk to me? I mean it’s not like we experienced something traumatic and - at least to me - inexplicable, is it? Naaah, just day like any other.’ He paused, and changed his demeanour to look at Merlin seriously. ‘I know there’s more to what happened in that house. And I’m convinced that you, for some unknown reason keep hiding the truth from me. If I am to be a part of this, and continue trusting you as I’ve done from the moment you told me the truth, you must do the same and put your trust in me. I may not be much, given my lack of memories, but we’re either in this together, or not at all.’ He finished with a swiping gesture of his hand, that traveled all the way to his neck.

   Kilgharrah was right. The one mistake Merlin kept repeating was not telling Arthur the truth. Not speaking openly with him. Perhaps it was high time.

‘Alright. I’ll tell you everything I know. But you must know, that I do not know everything. And most of the things that I claim I know - I don’t even know them for sure. It’s what I assume is the truth. So...yeah.’

‘I’m listening’ Arthur encouraged him to go on.

‘I found that we have two tracks to follow, and I can’t figure out, which is more pressing. First of all, the Royal Family. They were found dead in their beds, the day you were woken from your sleep. In order to investigate their death, we must go all the way to London, England. The second thing is connected to the Browns. That thing on their house that you called a lizard was a head of a dragon’. He swallow hard. ‘It was a white dragon. A creature I once knew. At least I thought I knew. I cannot explain why they were killed or why they were treated with such violence. I don’t even know for sure, whether I can hold the dragon responsible. But once I saw his outline on the house, I remembered the lake I saw when I touched your sword. If we were to follow that trail, we must go to Scotland, to a city called Iverness. It is situated right next to Loch Ness, a lake in which the dragon has resided after his master’s death.’

   ‘Alright. So we must decide?’ Arthur asked, fully engaged in the story.

‘Yes. We must.’ Merlin replied, clearly indecisive.

‘Let’s go to Scotland, then.’

‘What?’ The sudden choice surprised Merlin.

‘It seems to me the more reasonable choice. If the beast is not guilty, we’ll leave for London as soon as we can. And if it turns out that is was the dragon that murdered all those people, we will deal with the creature immediately, and our case will be solved. What do you say?’ The determined look on Arthur’s face made Merlin realise that even without memories, Arthur was himself - still as prattish as ever, yes, but also a great tactician, and a caring man.

‘I am all for it. I mean it’s a brilliant way to solve it. I don’t why I didn’t come up with this idea first.’ Merlin said, content that they know what to do.

‘I do. But I don’t like being mean.’ Arthur smirked.

‘Right, Of course not.’ Scoffed the old man.

   As soon as they finished their tea, Merlin pulled out his laptop - to Arthur’s surprise, since he seemed to not be programmed with knowledge about some devices. As soon as the warlock explained to him how it works, Arthur kept pretending to be surprised that a man his age was capable of using it. After a deadly glance his way from the owner of the computer, the boy has forgone any further mockery. Merlin explained to him, that what they needed, were train tickets, and he had to find out when the earliest train for Scotland leaves. It turned out, that were they to leave in an hour, they would catch a train leaving north. They quickly agreed to being short on time.

   They started packing their essentials, but since Arthur barely had anything, he chivalrously offered to carry all their stuff. Their package was relatively small. They didn’t need much stuff, since clothes could be cleaned by magic. Merlin has put a spell on the sword, so that only him and Arthur could see it, slightly sticking out of their bag. He also made sure that there was no money left anywhere in his apartment. They headed directly to the train station. They bought tickets, they found their platform, they boarded a train. Arthur’s eyebrows kept shooting upwards in amazement, though Merlin could see he did his best to pretend that seeing a train wasn’t a brand new experience. When the train started moving, the boy hastily grabbed his friend’s arm, terror on his face. Seeing the sorcerer muffle a laugh, he let go just as quickly and crossed his arms on his chest, offended. One amused and one feeling like a fool, they began their journey.


	7. I hate trains

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the TV show 'Merlin' or any of its characters.

‘Merlin?’

Silence.

‘Merlin!’

Still nothing.

‘Meeerrrliiin! MerlinMerlinMerlinMerlinMerlin. _Meeeeeeeeeeeeerlin_. MERLIN!!!’

The sorcerer opened his eyes with a resigned sigh. He glimpsed to his right and caught a disturbing sight of Arthur staring at him.

‘Merlin.’ The boy repeated once more.

’You know what. I think you might have slightly repeated yourself.’ The warlock answered the call sourly.

‘Merlin, what is this?’ Arthur asked, his eyes wide from either surprise, curiosity or fear, or perhaps all those combined, regarding his urgency. His finger was pointing to the air conditioner above them.

‘Oh no. No, no, no.’ Merlin shook his head disbelievingly.

‘I’m repeating myself? Rich coming from you, honestly. Will you answer my question? Waking you up was quite an effort and I would like an answer.’ Arthur replied and sat back comfortably, waiting.

‘You have got to be joking. You woke me up to ask about the air conditioner? You’re such an ass, it’s extraordinary.’ Said Merlin, clearly irritated.

‘Oh I’m sorry. Were it your first time on a train, you wouldn’t be so clever, would you? This thing.’ Arthur stopped to look at the device with resentment, as if it has personally hurt him. ‘It started blowing into my face. Cold air!’ Arthur exclaimed. Merlin squinted to look at him. He questioned the seriousness of the situation. Did Arthur genuinely wake him up to ask this question? Or was this a prank? Then Arthur, with a sulky and confused expression, lifted himself on his armrests and put his face close to the air conditioner. Once a stronger gush of air brushed him, he flopped back into his seat and sneezed twice.

   Merlin laughed. Arthur really meant it. He was afraid of the air conditioner, though he would pretend it only disturbed him. As he kept laughing, the younger man grunted and slapped his arm sulkily.

‘Sorry, Arthur. I’m so sorry.’ Merlin wiped the tears from his eyes, and settled down. ‘It’s the air conditioner. It’s harmless. It’s supposed to keep you breezy, when it’s too hot. But I can turn it off if you don’t want it.’ The only answer he got was a frown and a little nod, before the young man turned his head to look out the window.

   Merlin fell asleep within minutes from the beginning of their journey. He couldn’t help it. He slept soundly for a few hours during the day, but weariness got hold of him once more. Arthur seemed to understand it, despite waking him after mere fifteen minutes. Arthur probably thought it was his old age. Considering what Merlin’s told him, having hundreds of years on your neck could wear anyone out. But Merlin knew better than this. Fear clenched his heart as he reminded himself that his fatigue wasn’t physical. And sleep wasn’t going to make him feel better, if it weren’t already making him feel worse, angry with himself for wasting time.

_Merlin?_

The man jerked at the sound of the dragon’s voice, alarming Arthur.

‘It’s um. The dragon. The one in my head.’ He explained, smiling apologetically.

‘...Right.’ Came the sceptical answer.

‘What is it, Kilgharrah?’ He directed his thoughts and closed his eyes to avoid showing too much emotions to the oblivious to the conversation Arthur. The situation felt embarrassing to Merlin. Arthur on the other hand couldn’t help but feel left out. IF there actually was a dragon in that man’s mind, he would like to hear what he has to say as well.

_Would you care to explain where you’re going, warlock?_

‘Oh, right. We’re on our way to Scotland.’

_Care to elaborate?_

‘Well, long story short, we found Mr. Brown and his son Ricky dead in their house, frozen and torn to shreds, while their house was covered in black moss. And on the outer walls, which are painted white, it showed a shape of a dragon. Which I guessed to be Aithusa. Ah, that’s right, I guessed it, because when we retrieved the sword from the Avalon, the Lady of the Lake has sent me a vision that showed the Loch Ness, so that’s precisely where we’re heading.’

_Seems like an awful lot has happened when I was gone._

‘Are you talking like the World Wars and stuff or are you referring to one bloody day of my life?’

_Merlin! You are very rude today._

‘Sorry’

_Have you told all of this to Arthur?_

‘More or less.’

_What is that supposed to mean? Does he know that the White Dragon consorted with Morgana?_

‘At this point I’m not sure he knows who Morgana even is, Kilgharrah. And no, I haven’t told him that.’

_You must tell him everything you know, warlock. Otherwise you won’t be able to work together. Talking will help you both._

‘Why do you both insist on talking so much?’

_Why do you insist on staying silent?_

‘I’m tired, Kilgharrah, and I’ve come to enjoy silence. Also, may I remind you, that keeping secrets is all I’ve done my entire life. It’s what I do best. Letting everything out for a change is not going to come easily to me. Not at this age, it won’t’

_I never said it was going to be easy. But nonetheless, you must communicate. You MUST, Merlin._

   ‘I will do my best.’ With a mental sigh from Merlin, the conversation ended. The sorcerer quickly opened his eyes and looked around to keep himself busy, and make sure to not fall asleep again. Arthur eyed him suspiciously for a moment, and went back to looking out the window. It was time for Merlin to think everything through. He hasn’t been to Scotland in years. He wasn’t sure anymore whether the dragon still lived there, though it was the safest place for him. Once Morgana died, the dragon was so devastated it traveled miles - as far as his wings and leg could take him - and resided around a lake, that was surrounded by forests and mountains. He did his best to hide, and hell, Merlin himself has tried helping Aithusa keep her presence hidden. It wasn’t easy. Firstly, because the number of people living in Scotland, just like all over the world, kept increasing. Secondly, he had an issue with the dragon’s animosity towards himself. Yes, the dragon did listen to him, but only when commanded to do so. Weren’t it for Merlin being the last dragonlord, Aithusa wouldn’t listen to him whatsoever. There was a chance, she would go as far as attacking him, after all she had a deep bond with Morgana, and it was Merlin who killed her.

   Sitting and staring dully into the seat in front of him, he tried to remember where Aithusa’s last layer was. She kept changing them, in order for people not to find her, because they still keep looking. Within years, the twisted creature became the biggest lore in the neighbourhood. Some slip-ups, a few sightings, and people created legends about the beast. That’s why it never left. The Lake got a name after her, and people have created a touristic infrastructure around it. Some believe she’s real, some don’t. Nonetheless, scarce sightings are expected there. Staying around this particular place would mean not stirring any further suspicions anywhere else. It felt very comfortable.

   And so, he’s spent another half an hour thinking about what’s ahead of them. He managed to pinpoint the last layer he saw Aithusa make, and remember how to get there. Despite the dull ride, he could see that Arthur showed no signs of tiredness. The whole situation seemed to keep him alarmed at all times.

‘You’re going to have to sleep at some point’ Merlin said, doing his best not to sound grumpy. Previous anger has apparently left the young man, as his answer was calm and pensive.

‘Do you know what it’s like.’ He stopped for a moment, to look at the man next to him. ‘To feel incomplete? I just can’t stop thinking. About everything. Nagging my own brain to find the missing piece. But it’s just not there.’ His eyes betrayed how lost and frustrated he was. ‘Nevermind that. You spoke to me. I’m honoured.’ With a grunt, his usual playfulness was back. Merlin scoffed and let out a little chuckle. He was doing his best, after all.

   ‘May I ask you something? Now that you started the conversation and I’m not going to seem pushy.’

‘Ask away.’

‘Why did you work as a mailman? I mean, you’re a sorcerer, surely you could get by without having to work at the post-office!’ Said Arthur, incredulity and curiosity mixing in his voice.

‘That’s as easy question. It was the only job that would allow an old man to walk everyday back and forth next to the Lake of Avalon, without being questioned. I was afraid that if I didn’t have an explanation for walking around like that, someone would eventually call the police, or think I’m insane. I could obviously, get out of a situation like that, but why bother, when I could pose as a common citizen? So I found something that let me keep an eye on the lake on an everyday basis. I walked, I delivered mail, kept some acquaintances, I watched the Lake. Simple as that.’ Merlin finished with a shy smile, and waited for Arthur’s response. The young man blinked several times and contorted his mouth in reflection.

‘So you became a postman… Essentially to stare at the lake… Well that’s quite alright. And not creepy AT ALL.’ He shook his head sarcastically.

   ‘Oh that’s funny.’ Merlin retorted, pretending to laugh. ‘How about I ask you a question now, huh?’

‘Well, you know more about me that I do, but sure, I’m an open book.’ The boy said confidently.

‘Why are you here? Why do you trust me? Why didn’t you call me mad, and run away? Why did you believe me right away?’ Merlin asked smugly, as he saw his words surprised Arthur.

‘Well, um. Huh. I can’t really explain it. It’s not like I would trust anyone who told me I was some king. But you, Merlin! There’s something familiar about you. Something so domestic, I don’t know. It almost feels as if you and I were meant to be. As if our destinies lay together. I - honestly, it’s all blabber.’ Arthur shifted uncontrollably in his seat, and looked at his hands, clearly awkward. Merlin stifled a laugh.

‘No, no. That’s quite alright. And not creepy AT ALL.’

***

   The rest of the train journey they’ve spent in quite companionable silence. When they left the train, the sun was slowly setting.

‘We’re here. At last. That was quite a ride’ Arthur said, stretching his muscles, and looked back at the train.

‘Yeah, we’re here. The great city of Bristol!’ Merlin said, eyeing Arthur, amused.

‘You said a different name of a city before.’ The boy looked at him quizzically.

‘That’s because we’re not there yet. We have a day of journey ahead of us.’ Merlin smirked, sensing Arthur’s reluctance and devastation. ‘Come on now!’ The warlock called. ‘We have eight minutes left until our next train leaves, and we don’t want to be late. Or this trip is going to be even longer.’ Arthur didn’t need any more encouragement. He’s put a firmer grip on their bag and ran after Merlin in no time.

***

   They had another transfer on their way, and once they’ve reached Manchester, it was nearing midnight. Arthur could admit to himself as well as anyone who asked, that he really did his best to try and fall asleep. But the longer he’s spent in the train the more motion sick he got. And the noises, the unexpected movements, it was all too much for his mind to settle down. It’s difficult to sleep when you have to pretend you’re not fearing for your life every five minutes. Merlin caught a few naps, though Arthur could see he did his best to stay alert. He figured that the one thing they both wanted the most, was a warm, comfortable bed.

‘Merlin. Please tell me we can stay here for the night. Or at least a few hours.’ Arthur said, and he yawned, confirming his weariness.

   ‘That’s not a bad idea. I bet we could catch our next train in the morning.’ Merlin said, looking around. They headed to the tourist information centre to ask where the nearest hotel was. Once they had an address, they left the train station and caught a cab to the hotel. They booked in, got their key, got to the room. And they simply collapsed on their beds, falling asleep within minutes. They both snored loudly and couldn’t be bothered by any noise. And oddly enough, though they didn’t realise it yet, they shared the same dream.

  _They were covered in black smoke. They saw nothing. They tried calling each other, but still couldn’t see a thing. Merlin felt his foot touch something slimy and wet. When he tried to retract his leg, he felt it was stuck. The smoke subdued. Arthur saw Merlin stuck in a puddle of black goo. He tried to reach him, but there was a glass wall between them. They called each other’s names again, but they were muffled by the wall. The goo at Merlin’s feet started rising. It started crawling upwards on his skin. Merlin’s calls became more urgent. Arthur banged the glass before him, but there was nothing he could do. Merlin’s body was almost entirely covered in slime. He reached his hand towards Arthur. The boy cried._

**_‘YOUR TIME HAS COME, EMRYS’_ **

   Merlin’s eyes snapped open with a sudden intake of breath. Behind him he could hear heavy breathing and a loud thump. Arthur has fallen off of his bed and scrambled out of his sheets. Merlin turned around, and one look into the other man’s eyes was enough for both of them to know, that they saw the same thing. They didn’t speak. The younger man walked towards his bed and sat there, calming his breath. The clock on the wall showed 5:30 in the morning. They still had about 2 hours till the train they wanted to catch. Arthur was appalled by the idea of spending another day in several trains. But he knew the alternative was much worse. Even though Merlin would never admit it, they could get to Iverness within seconds. All they needed was a teleportation spell. But after this particular dream, Arthur was sure, that the distance they would cross with the spell, was far too much for Merlin to bear. The cold voice, announcing Merlin’s time echoed in the boy’s mind and he shuddered. He needed to believe that was a mere threat. Merlin wouldn’t leave him alone. He couldn’t.

   After a few more minutes of sitting, when they decided they could finally stand, Merlin called in to get some breakfast, while Arthur chose to take a shower. Once they were both done eating and showering, they set off on their journey once more. This time, neither of them wanted to talk. They boarded the train and spent another hour sitting in complete and utter silence. It wasn’t the comfortable agreement, like the quietness before, but an utter and dead lack of any sound from either of them. It felt heavy and solemn.

   Once they reached York, they grabbed some food for their journey, just in case there wasn’t any on the train. Their silence continued, but once they got onto yet another train, Arthur couldn’t take it anymore.

‘How many more are there left?’ He exclaimed, exasperated.

‘Trains?’ Merlin asked quietly.

‘No, Merlin, horses. Of course trains! How much more of this do I have to endure?’ Arthur didn’t seem to notice he was losing his temper, as his voice rose. He only calmed down upon seeing a few curious glances from other passengers.

‘Let’s see. This one takes us to Edinburgh, and from there we have a direct connection to Iverness. So only two left, including this one.’ Merlin smiled proudly, showing off, how greatly he’s planned it all out. Arthur grunted and turned his head to the window, resuming the silence.

   When they finally reached Edinburgh, they had some more time left, and decided to lunch at the train station. Once they did, they boarded their last train to Iverness. Arthur was glad this trip was coming to an end, and he wasn’t going to hide it. He sat in his seat expectantly and kept twitching his leg impatiently. Little did he know, this was to be their longest ride yet.

   After two hours, when he realised it wasn’t going to be over anytime soon, and reading peculiar magazines no longer made him laugh, he sank into his seat and let out a sorry wail.

‘What’s going on now?’ Merlin asked, frowning at his friend.

‘How. Much. Longer. Merlin.’

‘Not much. About an hour I suppose. Is it that bad?’ The warlock asked, putting his magazine away.

‘Oh, no, it’s absolutely fine. Only i feel horribly unwell, my bum is sore, my legs are numb and my head is hurting. Any regular day, I would say.’ Arthur responded, and pulled himself up again.

‘Well, when you’ll be my age, that really will be any regular day.’ Merlin scoffed. Arthur took in the man next to him, and mentally kicked himself. He’s been feeling too horrible to recognize the sorcerer’s old age.

   ‘Right.’ The young man murmured, perplexed. Oh no, Merlin didn’t mean to make him feel guilty. Instead he made himself feel responsible once again. He’s failed his promise to Kilgharrah. He hasn’t spoken to Arthur about much really. He was so caught up in his own mind, especially after their dream, he’s forgotten about that entirely.

‘Arthur’ He decided to make that up now.’How about…’ He focused for a moment.’Oh I got it! You don’t recognize faces. But how about I describe to you what people in Camelot looked like and behaved like, so next time you remember, you’ll be able to tell what happened!’ Merlin smiled brilliantly at his idea.

‘I think I’d like that’ Arthur nodded in agreement.

‘Here we go then. The first person you’re going to need to know is King Uther, your father. Gray hair, cold eyes, strict voice. Usually angry or dissatisfied. Hates magic.’

***

 

   The last moments of their journey proved themselves to be the most pleasant. Whenever Merlin got a bit reluctant to talk, Arthur would inquire and encourage him to do so. And whenever Arthur got sorrowful, because he remembered none of Merlin’s stories, the warlock would cheer him up with a story of how his clumsiness got him into trouble. They reached Iverness with weary smiles gracing their features. They left the train and before going to a hotel, they chose to eat early dinner. Once they were done, they caught a cab and found their hotel. When they were booked in, they began preparing for their journey.

   They decided in unison, that it is not too late to start looking for the dragon. Arthur grabbed the sword and waited until Merlin was ready to take them where they needed to go. The sorcerer looked up from his book, and frowned, when he saw that the young man had to carry the sword in his bare hands.

‘Hold on a minute’ He muttered, and exited the room, leaving Arthur confused. He came back with a broad smile on his face and a sword in a leather sheath. He quickly took the weapon out, and helped Arthur put on the empty scabbard, encouraging him to try it out for Excalibur. Once they saw it fit, Merlin laughed gleefully, proud of himself.

‘This is great, Merlin. But where did you get this?’ Arthur asked.

‘I saw a gift shop on our way here.’ He answered happily. Arthur nodded in appreciation and tested the sheath a few times. It worked perfectly.

   Even though they began their search for Aithusa in high spirits, they realised that the only practical way to move around the lake was magic. And they couldn’t help but feel fearful about Merlin’s strength to get them where they needed to be. The sorcerer got hold of Arthur’s hands and began chanting. After a few nauseating swirls, they found themselves in the middle of a forest. It wasn’t getting dark yet, but the weather was foul, and the trees blocked the already weak sun. Merlin muttered a word and a ball of light appeared next to them. ‘It’s this way’ He said, signaling Arthur to follow him. The ball floated right next to them as they walked. Arthur kept a grip on his sword. They couldn’t be too cautious.

   They walked and walked, and Merlin kept getting more and more frustrated. He’s teleported them four times into different parts of the lake and they still found nothing. Arthur remained patient, but he could see Merlin’s endurance drop rapidly. The warlock was not only grunting angrily at every dead end they got to, but his breathing has become unsteady, his moves stolid and he stopped then and again, to compose himself. He chose not to speak or complain for Merlin’s sake, though he felt more and more hopeless.

‘This doesn’t make any sense’ Merlin breathed and span around, startling his companion. ‘I know I’m old. But I think I would remember where a bloody layer was.’ He added, holding onto a tree.

‘I believe you would. And we did find layers. But they were all empty.’ Arthur replied, taking a step closer to the man. ‘Perhaps the dragon didn’t come back after paying a visit to the Browns.’ He mused, trying not to sound pitying.

‘No. That’s impossible. She always came back. There was no other place she felt safe.’ Arthur looked away. He looked around in hope of finding any clue, as to where the dragon might be.

‘Let’s try the mountains.’ He heard behind his back, and before he could say no, Merlin’s hand grabbed him and they teleported again.

   After this spell, Merlin swayed in his feet a little. Arthur pretended not to see that, and simply followed the older man in his steps towards the rocks. The forest at this point was mixing with the stony area and trees appeared scarcer. When they reached a border - a place where the mountains began and trees ended, they heard a twig breaking behind their backs. It was getting darker with every minute now. And the thick clouds weren’t making it any easier on them. They quickly turned around. Something moved in between the trees. Arthur pulled out his sword, and held in front of him. They looked into each other’s eyes understandingly and they moved a few steps towards the trees. Arthur walked in the front. ‘Hello?’ He called out, but there was no answer.

   And then, they saw a pair of dark eyes. Merlin raised his hand, ready to attack. But as soon as they got a better look, they knew it meant no harm. It was a deer. It was leering at them from the trees. They let out the breaths they were holding and laughed at their own paranoia. The deer walked a few step towards them. Arthur reached his hand calmly in the animal’s direction, saying

‘What is it, boy? We mean no harm.’ The deer kept going towards him, while Arthur was standing still, trying not to scare him away. Just when the deer was inches from Arthur, it snarled. That gave him enough time to retract his hand.

   The deer bolted forward, his jaws snapping at the young man. Arthur quickly ran back towards Merlin and put his sword in front of him. The animal stopped its charge to compose and begin a new one. Arthur urged Merlin to get to his right, pushing him over. As if sensing his weakness, the deer attacked the lying man. Just as its neck surged towards the sorcerer, he closed his eyes. He then heard an awful splashing sound. When his eyes were open again, he saw a severed deer head lying next to him. Arthur was breathing heavily, as he picked up Merlin from the ground.

‘You used me as bait.’ Merlin complained.

‘Well… It’s dead isn’t it?’ Arthur noticed pointedly. ‘What’s wrong with it anyway?’

   They crouched next to the corpse to inspect it. They didn’t manage to do so for long. There was no blood coming out of the deer’s head or body. There was only black goo. And it reeked from an all too familiar stench. They covered their mouths and left the body alone. Behind them, they heard flapping of wings. Once again they turned towards the trees. They saw a flock of birds of all kinds sitting in between the trees. Underneath them stood three more deer. All of the animals were staring at them intently.

‘Keep quiet, and move backwards.’ Merlin whispered, as he gently grabbed Arthur’s forearm, to drag him from doing anything too heroic.

  _Love, love me do. You know I love you…_

They both jumped as loud music started playing from Merlin’s pocket. The animals moved towards them.

‘Run’ Yelled Arthur. And so they span around and ran. Merlin scrambled hastily towards his pocket, to take out his cell phone.

‘Why on the bloody earth didn’t you turn that off!’ He heard Arthur shout next to him. The rattle of hooves on rocks and the flopping of wings made it almost impossible to communicate. Merlin looked at the phone screen. It said Margaret. He tried to reject the call, but clumsy as he was, he answered it. He felt Arthur grab his sides to help him run faster. If it hadn’t been for the uneven area, the deer would have gotten them in seconds.

  _‘Mr. Ealdor? I’m sorry to be calling this late, but you haven’t shown for work in two days and we were getting worried and I thought…’_

‘Now is NOT the time to be talking on this thing, Merlin!’ Arthur cried out as he tried swinging his sword backwards.

_‘Oh my God, Mr. Ealdor, what is that noise? Are those hooves? And who is yelling?-’_

‘Now is not really a good time to talk, Margaret’ Merlin breathed into the phone.’I’m kinda in trouble. I’m gonna try and call-’

   Whether Merlin meant to say he’ll call back, Margaret wasn’t going to find out. Suddenly, the ground underneath their feet disappeared. They screamed as they fell into a hollow pit. The animals seemed content with what they’ve done, and left the men alone. The pit was a couple meters deep. Its walls were smooth and vertical. Arthur and Merlin lay at the bottom of it, motionless.

  
***

   ‘Hello? Mr. Ealdor? Mr. Ealdor!’ Margaret shouted to her phone, but there was no answer. What on earth has just happened? She could hear the shower working, which meant that her girlfriend didn’t hear the conversation. She didn’t know much about Mr. Ealdor, but whatever was happening, it sounded bad, and she had to do something. If she couldn’t do it herself, she would at least call for some help. But where the hell was this man? She sighed. She knew what to do, but that would mean invading his privacy. Then as she began tracking his phone with her gps, she told herself that if this means saving his life, he’s not going to mind. She wouldn’t be able to track him, where this any other phone. But this particular one that Mr. Ealdor had - it was Margaret who gave it to him. It used to belong to Janice, her girlfriend, and they had tracking on at all times. The fact that it was used and no longer needed were the only arguments that persuaded Mr. Ealdor to accept it as a gift. The phone in her hand let out a ting. The location note said : Loch Ness whereabouts, Scotland. Margaret’s heart sank. How on earth was she going to help him?


	8. The Fate of the Loch Ness Monster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! I know this chapter is a week late. But due to exams coming my way (:C) next chapters might also come late, or at a random pace. I am very sorry about this, and I can promise that once this semester ends the updates will get back on track. For now, please enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the TV show 'Merlin' or any of its characters.

   The first thing he knew when he woke up, was that he was in pain. He groaned, as he tried to slowly move his body on the stone floor. He opened his eyes slowly, squinting, in order to protect them from the bright light. He tried to sit. It took him a while, but he finally managed to pull himself up. He slowly looked around, taking in his surroundings and trying to remember what the hell happened. All around him were rocks and stones. The sun was shining right at him, through a wide crack above. He knew there was no chance of climbing up. Two of the walls - the one in front of him, and the one to his left - were completely smooth. The one to his right, on the other hand, was glistening in the sunlight. However rocky and uneven it’s structure was, there was water dripping down from the top, and it made the wall too slippery to climb.

   The stone floor he was lying on was dry though. He tried to stand up. With a few more groans, he walked over to the small rocky waterfall and examined it. The water had no real source - and no actual reflux. He frowned. How could this be possible? He put his hand into the water. It seemed cold and refreshing. Without much thought, he started spraying himself with it, drinking some of it in the process. Only then did he realise, how dirty and sweaty he was, and his clothes shabby. The touch of the water seemed to permanently wake him up. His eyes widened.

   Arthur turned to look behind him, to check whether what he remembered was true. And there on the floor lay Merlin, unconscious. They fell down here, when they were running from wild animals. And Arthur must’ve spent at least one night sleeping on the floor. No wonder he ached so much. The long journey, the exhausting search, the fall, the hard ground. He stretched. Water was still dripping down his back. He hoped Merlin would wake up soon. No matter how refreshing he felt, he was soaking wet. And only Merlin could dry him with a mere whisper.

   There was one more reason for Merlin to wake up quickly. They were stuck in a bloody pit. And Arthur knew for sure, there was no way he could get out on his own. Only magic, or help from the outside could help them. He moved towards the sorcerer. He tried shaking him and calling his name, but there was no answer. Merlin lay on the floor, unresponsive. His skin was unnaturally pale. A mix of sweat and dirt covered it. His mouth was slightly open, and his limbs lay in weird directions. Arthur moved him around, further into the cave, so that no animals could reach him. He took off Merlin’s jacket and rolled it up underneath the man’s head.

   But something wasn’t right. He sniffed the air. He could smell something, that wasn’t there before. He looked towards the deeper end of the cave. It looked exactly like any cave would. The further you go, the darker it gets. He took a few steps forward, until he couldn’t see anything. He sniffed again. The smell was quite clearly a stench. A strong feeling of foreboding caught him, as he realised, he knew what the odour was. And he vaguely knew what he was going to find, were he to go into the dark.

   He needed to light his way. He walked back to where Merlin initially fell, and picked up his cellphone from the ground. He pushed some button on it’s side. The display lit up. It wasn’t damaged. The phone must’ve still been in Merlin’s hand when he hit the ground. Arthur read an instruction, that said ‘To unlock, swipe right’. And so he did as he was told. He figured, that if someone as old as Merlin knew how to use this, he would figure it out in no time.

   Perhaps he should call for help first? And so he dialed a random number. But the phone seemed to not make a call. Frustrated, he gave up after the seventh time. Now, he looked for the light. He touched the dot in the middle. Whatever it was, it must’ve been important, hence it was situated in the middle. A lot of small icons popped up, with tiny descriptions underneath. One said ‘Flashlight’ His brain registered, that the word ‘light’ was inside it. He decided to give it a shot and touched the icon. Immediately, a tiny lamp on the back of the phone lit up. It wasn’t much, but it was good enough.

   He moved back to where the cave led, and proceeded forward. His body was still aching, and quite frankly, he felt fear creeping up into his heart, so his moves were slow and steady. He decided to direct the light right before his feet. That way he could easily avoid any obstacles. From time to time he stopped, and ran the light all over the current part of the cave. But he always saw the same thing. The walls were completely smooth. As If carefully carved by hand. There were no rocks sticking out and no holes in the floor. He could clearly see patches, as if someone filled in the holes in the ground with liquified stone.

   What he felt was an hour worth of walking, wasn’t even a mile. The constant tension, and the worsening stench made him regret leaving on his own. He stopped to shine the light around the cave once more. The odour was so horrid, he was fighting with himself not to vomit, even though his entire body was trembling. He directed the light back before his feet, and took another step.

   And then, he noticed something different. Right within the light’s range there was a stream of a black liquid on the ground. He shifted his feet nervously, to a fighting stance. He wanted to take out his sword, but he was too afraid of retching. Instead, he moved the flashlight upwards, according to the trail the substance led. Once the image reached his eyes, he could no longer hold his stomach. He dropped Merlin’s phone right where he stood, and ran back through the darkness, towards the light of day he left behind, hoping he won’t vomit on his way there.

***

   When Merlin woke up, it was nearly sundown. He felt every muscle in his body ache. He tried to help himself, by whispering any soothing spell on himself. He didn’t get rid of the pain, but he managed to minimize it. He opened his eyes and saw a stone ceiling above him. He stretched right where he lay, and with difficulties, managed to sit. Arthur was lying right next to him. The young man was slightly wet and used Merlin’s jacket as a blanket. He was lying on his side, with a frown on his face. He was crawled up in his position. His body seemed defensive. Even though he was asleep, he was still clutching his sword.

   Merlin did his best to stand up without waking Arthur. The former action itself seemed barely possible at this point, but he managed to fulfill both. He stumbled forward, and had to hold onto a wall to stand. From his new position, he noticed a waterfall. He remembered this waterfall. He’s created many such fountains in his time. And every single one of them to help Aithusa settle in a new layer. They must’ve fallen into one of them.

   The sight of the water also reminded him, just how thirsty he was. He reeled into the water with his entire body and crashed against the hard rocks behind it. He gulped at the falling water in any way he could. When he was done drinking, he washed his face and hands. He sat back down, resting against a wall. He whispered a spell and both he and a still slightly wet Arthur were dry again. Arthur breathed deeply in his sleep. He must’ve felt the gush of air the spell brought.

   Arthur blinked his eyes open. Merlin saw as he reached his hand behind him, checking for Merlin. When his hand met nothing but stone, Arthur ran to his feet, panicked. Upon seeing a quite alive and well Merlin resting next to the waterfall, he cursed under his breath and went over to refresh himself.

‘Couldn’t you have just woken me up?’ Said Arthur sulkily.

‘Sorry.’ Merlin croaked. He cleared his throat and tried to speak once more. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t want to bother you.’ Arthur pursed his lips, desolate. He decided to take a seat next to Merlin. He knew he had to tell the sorcerer what he saw, but even thinking about it made him feel nauseas. He didn’t know where to begin.

   ‘So listen um…’ Arthur managed eventually and rubbed his neck nervously. ‘About this place…’ He tried to continue, but Merlin with a very guilty tone interrupted him.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry again, Arthur. I know where we are and I should’ve told you right away.’ He grunted in sourness and mentally cursed his fading memory. ‘This is one of Aithusa’s layers. One of which we were supposed to excavate.’

‘Oh I know.’ Arthur laughed. ‘Believe me, I do.’ Merlin looked up at Arthur and smiled.

‘Well I suppose it’s not difficult to put together. The smooth walls, treated by fire, the magical waterfall.’ He said, as he looked around at partially his own work. ‘I only wonder whether it’s the right one.’ Arthur laughed nervously, and shifted his legs awkwardly in front of himself.

‘It is, Merlin.’ He said, staring at his knees, picking an invisible thread from his jeans.

‘How can you know that?’ Merlin asked, bemused.

‘I-’ Arthur tried to explain, but found himself unable to speak. ‘Put on some light.’ He finally murmured. ‘And just follow me.’

***

   They’ve been walking quietly with the magical light Merlin conjured for a while now. Though Arthur has already gone through the caves once, he decided to keep a careful steady pace regardless. He honestly didn’t want to see this again. He really wished he could just send Merlin there alone. But he felt like he couldn’t. When they found the Browns he bailed on Merlin and ran out of the house. He didn’t like feeling this weak. He needed to be strong, he told himself. If he is to remember his past life he can’t keep running away from the things at hand.

   At some point, they managed to make out a tiny light. It was Merlin’s cellphone with the flashlight still on. It lay just where Arthur dropped it. The young man gulped and shuddered visibly. Merlin’s body tensed as he wasn’t sure what to expect. He recognized the smell. It was getting more and more intense with every second. Then Arthur reached out a hand to stop him. He looked at him, trying to convey a message in his eyes, telling him not to move. Arthur took a few faster steps forward and picked up Merlin’s phone. He put it into a back pocket of his trousers. He didn’t think he could trust it would be safe with Merlin just now. He then gestured for Merlin to move slightly forward with his light. Which he warily did.

   And what he saw was far beyond what he expected. It was the White Dragon. It was Aithusa. But she was nowhere close to the state he last saw her in. Merlin kept walking forward, to get a better look. Somewhere around the dragon’s belly, he sank to his knees. He started shaking uncontrollably and sobbed loudly. Trying to touch some of the white scales with his hand, he let out a shriek. It resonated in the perfectly carved cave so much, Arthur jumped in shock. It wasn’t exactly the reaction he saw fit to the situation. He was more horrified than anything himself. But then again, a sight like this one could put anyone on edge.

   Aithusa was barely recognizable. If you didn’t know what you were looking for, the word dragon didn’t exactly spring to mind. The beast’s belly was ripped apart. There was black goo dried up on top of it, where the meat has also began to rot. The holes in the belly were quite clearly sign of some teeth or beaks - whatever animal was here, it fed on the dragon’s body. There was also a gaping hole somewhere underneath it’s neck. It was all black and rotten, and at this point you couldn’t make out what caused it. And yet, the worse part was the head. It was simply missing. It has been severed by a sharp object, and the black liquid spilled from the open neck onto the floor in front of it. It mostly managed to dry up. But the effect and the stench remained.

   Merlin kept crying, crouched on the stone floor. Arthur yearned to console the older man, but he couldn’t bring himself to get to the dead body this close. A thousand thoughts rushed through Merlin’s head. Aithusa was never his ally. But she was a mythical beast. She was the last living dragon. And she was dead. And he wasn’t there for her. He was too caught up in being a sad and tired old man to help his kin. He kept failing everyone who mattered to him. And Aithusa was just an another example of that.

   Arthur kept watching Merlin from a distance. Once he settled down, he wiped his face dry and stood up. Then without a word, he walked back to where they fell in.

‘Merlin?’ Arthur mumbled, still holding a hand to his face. He followed the sorcerer. Once they stopped, the young man repeated his question. ‘Merlin?’

‘I’m not in a mood to talk right now.’ Came the cold answer.

‘What do you mean you’re not in the mood?’ Arthur asked, but there was no answer. There was just Merlin standing next to the waterfall he created, staring upwards at the opening in the rocks, watching the sky with the now setting sun. ‘Oh, so we’re back to NOT telling me anything.’ Arthur said, clearly annoyed.

   ‘Well what am I supposed to tell you exactly?’ Merlin’s tone sound angry to say the least. ‘You saw for yourself. The creature is dead.’ He spit out venomously.

‘Oh I’ve seen it alright. Way before you did, mind you. But I have no clue what this means!’ Arthur’s voice kept rising, as impatience crept into his demeanour.

‘How could you? You don’t know much, do you?’ Merlin scoffed.

‘Are you actually accusing me of not knowing who we are? How is this my fault? I didn’t ask to die, and I sure as hell didn’t ask to be woken back up with a blank mind!’ Arthur’s voice reached almost a yell, but he took a few breaths before speaking again. ‘Look, I know this is difficult for you, but it is difficult for me too. I have no idea how to help. What does all of this mean? Was it the dragon who hurt the Browns? Was it the dragon who killed the Royal Family? You need to keep me updated on your train of thoughts because I can’t make anything of this on my own.’ He finished, with an urgent plea resounding in his tone.

_Merlin?_

Kilgharrah’s voice appeared in Merlin’s brain. ‘Now is really not the time.’ He said, his patience wearing thinner with every second.

_The sudden rise in your emotions alarmed me, warlock._

‘Kilgharrah, you’re not even alive. I am alone in this. How could you possibly care?’ Merlin heard the Great Dragon let out a gasp, but whatever he was about to say, was cut off by a strong arm grabbing Merlin’s shoulder and spinning him around. Arthur looked at him with irritation in his eyes.

‘What on earth are you doing?’ He asked through his teeth.

‘Talking to the dragon.’ Merlin shrugged in response. But that was too much for Arthur. Yet another thing he was being left out of. He didn’t know why, but he felt like his entire life, everyone always left him out of everything. Everyone kept keeping secrets. And now, when he needed the truth more than anything, it still wasn’t given to him.

   ‘Why do you keep doing that?!’ He yelled in Merlin’s general direction. Fury was blurring his vision.

‘Doing what? Living? You think this is difficult for you? You have no idea about what’s happening! You live in blissful ignorance! And me?!’ Merlin laughed hysterically. ‘I am alone in all of this. My best friend came back to life when I am too old to do a bloody thing! I have waited for so long for you and you don’t even remember me! How do you think that feels?’

‘I never said this was easy for you, Merlin.’ Arthur took a step back, to distance himself. ‘And whether you like it or not, keeping stuff from me is going to help neither of us. And one more thing…’ He stopped for a moment, to take a deep breath. ‘NONE OF THIS IS MY FAULT!.’ He yelled at the top of his lungs, turning red. Merlin scoffed angrily at him.

‘I never said this was your fault you dumb piece of an ass! I know all this is my fault. That’s the entire bloody problem! I fail every single time. You think that the fact Aithusa was Morgana’s friend ever mattered to me? She was the last dragon! And I cared for her with all my heart. I HATCHED HER, do you have any idea what that means?’ Merlin was yelling too now, and his eyes filled with tears. But Arthur seemed to take the words in differently. When he spoke again, his voice was a broken whisper.

‘This dragon’ He pointed in the direction where they found Aithusa. ‘Was my greatest enemy - as you say she was - Morgana’s friend?’ He asked, disbelievingly. ‘You made me search layers for a creature that was involved in my prior death?’ He kept asking. ‘I can’t believe you kept something like this from me.’ His voice was barely audible now, yet he felt a storm build up inside of him.

This time felt like lava. Magma filling up his veins.

_‘My mother is dead because of your selfishness and arrogance. Her blood is on your hands’ He found himself say. There was a silver haired man standing in front of him, he tried talking to him, but Arthur was blinded in fury. ‘I no longer think of myself as your son.’_

_‘Then what were you thinking?!’ He screamed again, as he shook a woman by her arms. They were alone. The woman was crying profusely. ‘I don’t know’ She whispered in a broken voice._

_‘I've been a fool.’ He found himself saying to a black haired boy. ‘And you knew all along. You knew he betrayed me.’ ‘I didn’t know.’ The boy answered. ‘I had my suspicions’_

   He woke up sweaty and panting on the stone floor, kneeling. Merlin was above him, shaking his arms and yelling his name.

‘It’s alright.’ He breathed out, to calm the other man. ‘I’m fine.’

‘You scared me so much Arthur. First you were yelling, then you were whispering and next thing I know you get a seizure. Did you have a vision?’ Merlin asked. His previous anger seemed to dissipate upon seeing his friend potentially getting hurt. Merlin helped Arthur sit down and steady his breathing. He waited until his friend was ready to talk.

   ‘I saw people you told me about.’ Arthur said, once he calm enough to do so. ‘My father was there, Gwen, you were there. When I think about it now I can remember more things than only the ones I saw. As if they were...um.’ He stopped and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to find an appropriate word to use.

‘Unlocked?’ Merlin proposed.

‘Yes. More or less. It was the same as the last time. But it felt different. Previous memories were full of grief. Now I felt fury fill me up.’ He explained to Merlin carefully.

‘Perhaps it’s a trope we should follow.’ He mused. ‘Your emotions. Though you don’t always have visions when you feel. I don’t know what to make out of this, honestly.’ Merlin sat heavily next to Arthur. They were both staring at the wall before them.

   They sat in silence together, sharing the confusion and hurt they’ve suffered from. Once they realised that it’s almost completely dark outside of the cave, the made up their minds on getting a good night’s rest. They were starving. But there was hardly anything they could do. Merlin wasn’t strong enough to get them out of the pit. Perhaps if he rested more, he would be able to save them, he hoped. They washed themselves in the waterfall, and decided to sleep up close on Merlin’s jacket, to save themselves from the cold stone floor and to preserve body heat. And though they were not willing to admit it, the near company of each other made them feel safe.

***

   ‘Mr. Ealdor!’ Merlin could make out a distant voice. Who on earth was calling him by his surname in his dream? ‘Mr. Ealdor!’ The same voice called again. A female voice. He knew it from somewhere, but couldn’t place it at the moment. ‘Mr. Ealdor!!!’ The same voice called once again, more urgent. Why was this person in his dream? Why was she calling him? And why couldn’t he see her?

‘Merlin.’ He heard a man grunt his name, and shake him by his arm. Okay, now this was most definitely Arthur. Back to normal dreams then. ‘Merlin, you’ve got to wake up, someone’s looking for us.’

   ‘W-what?!’ Merlin blurted sleepily as he forced his eyes open. He tried to hold onto Arthur but he wasn’t there anymore. He stood by the pit-hole and yelled upwards to get the attention of whoever was calling Merlin’s name. The sorcerer pushed himself up heavily, and shielding his eyes from the sun, he walked over to Arthur. It was day already. The birds were chirping happily, and there were barely any clouds in the sky. They have slept the entire night through on the bottom of this pit.

   ‘Mr. Ealdor! Are you there?’ The voice called once more.

‘Margaret?’ Merlin croaked. ‘Margaret we’re over here!’ The sorcerer yelled back. Within seconds, Margaret’s face popped up above them.

‘Hi!’ She said smiling broadly. ‘I can’t believe I actually found you!’ She said, very pleased with herself. Merlin and Arthur smiled back up at her. They were happy to be saved too, after all. ‘Oh, you probably wanna get out.’ She remembered suddenly that they were still, in fact, at the bottom of the pit. ‘Don’t you worry. I came prepared. I am carrying a rope in my backpack and I’m just… gonna-’ With that, she disappeared for a moment from their sight. They waited patiently and could hear her fumbling around the rocks above them.

   ‘It’s done! I tied it tightly around a rock, it should hold!’ She cried to them, as she dropped the rope down into the hole. ‘Climb right up.’ She said, grinning at them.

‘You go first.’ Arthur told Merlin. ‘I’ll help you from down here and push you.’ And when he saw Merlin try to protest this idea, he added ‘Don’t try to fight me on this, Merlin. We both know you’re gonna need help.’ Merlin eventually nodded in agreement and grabbed the rope. Within minutes they were both out of the pit, standing next to a very proud of herself Margaret. They were exhausted but alive and thankful.

   ‘Hi, I’m Margaret.’ She said, waving in Arthur’s direction.

‘Oh, that’s right. I didn’t introduce you two. Arthur, this is our saviour, Margaret. She worked with me at the post office. Margaret, this is the biggest pain in the arse you’ll ever meet, and his name is Arthur.’ He said, gesturing towards the man.

‘Oh, haha, look at me laughing at this hilarious joke, Merlin.’ Arthur retorted, staring at the sorcerer with a blank face. Margaret laughed and hurried to clean up the rope. Once she was done, Merlin gestured to a big rock to their left.

   ‘Can you help me set this stone over the entrance of the pit? I don’t want anyone else falling in.’ His explanation was directed at Margaret, but he gave Arthur a knowing look. And Arthur understood completely. He wanted to give the dragon a proper burial. He was going to change those caves into a tomb of sorts. And Arthur approved of this idea, so he rushed to get the stone in place. With a few huffs and puffs the three of them managed to roll the rock onto the hole.

   ‘Alright. Now that this is done, how do we get out of here?’ Arthur asked, looking around nervously. He was afraid of the animals. They chased them into the hole once, and he didn’t want them to attack them once again, especially now, that Margaret was with them.

‘What do you mean how? You guys don’t have a car?’ Asked Margaret, surprised. The men looked at each other and then back at Margaret, shaking their heads. ‘Then how the hell did you get here?’ Arthur rubbed his neck nervously, and Merlin shuffled his feet.

‘Well, Merlin.’ Arthur finally said. ‘How about you tell her how we got here?’ He turned to look at Merlin expectantly and crossed his arms on his chest.

   Merlin looked at his friend with anger in his eyes, but he composed himself, seeing Margaret’s eyes on himself.

‘Uh, we, well. We took a trip to the lake! And then we got lost. And we ran from animals. And we fell into the pit.’ He finally mumbled, adjusting his collar, sweaty. Margaret seemed to accept that.

‘Sounds like something you would do, Mr. Ealdor.’ She smiled. ‘Don’t get me wrong, but you are the clumsy legend of our post-office.’ Arthur stifled a laugh and choked on his spit doing so. He was now masking his laugh with a cough. ‘It’s okay though. I came here in my car. It’s not far from here. I can take you somewhere safe.’ She offered, ignoring Arthur’s attack of amusement.

‘That would we wonderful, Margaret.’ Merlin said. ‘Thank you so much for all of this.’

‘It’s okay.’ She said, as she began walking in her car’s direction. Merlin and Arthur followed in her steps. ‘It actually makes me feel kinda cool. It’s like an adventure.’ She added, turning around to beam at them both. Merlin and Arthur looked at each other in understanding. It was so much more than that.


	9. Phone Talks and Fairy Tales

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! I know it's been a while, so if you're still here, I gotta thank you so very much! I sure hope I'll be able to keep the chapters coming, and I hope you will like them. Enjoy!

   After a half an hour or so of walking, they made their way to Margaret’s car. Merlin joined her in the front seat, whilst Arthur sat in the back in the middle seat, staring intently at the road ahead and gripping tightly whatever he could, in fear for his life and battling motion-sickness. It was his second time in the car, after all. The first one was blurry in his memory, as it took place soon after him waking up and the Browns finding him at the lake. Everything within the first few hours of his awakening was a blur. Things only started to come into focus after Merlin - back then the weird man with a funny beard - told the Browns his name was Arthur. And now he sat, trying to focus on the road, but his mind wandered. He couldn’t stop thinking about the latest set of memories he acquired. They weren’t happy memories. Neither the first ones, nor the second ones. There was sadness and anger in them, and he couldn’t help but dwell on those two emotions, as they were the only substantial glimpse into his past he had.

   Whilst Arthur’s mind was absent, Margaret occupied Merlin, with what she thought was a pleasant conversation. She couldn’t have known, that Merlin sweated an ocean underneath his clothes, because he had to lie in order to answer almost all of her questions. When it came to mundane, and just really silly stuff, Merlin was a terrible liar.

‘So, Mr. Ealdor. I don’t mean to be nosy, but is Arthur a relative of yours? You’ve never talked about your family.’ The woman asked curiously.

‘Ah, yes well. He-uh’ Merlin stuttered. What a great way to prove you are telling the truth. ‘He’s my son. But we had a major row after his mother’s death. And he’s only come back to make up recently.’ He finally managed.

‘Oh my, I’m so sorry. Perhaps I shouldn’t have asked.’ She said upon seeing dripples of sweat making their way down Merlin’s cheek and into his beard.

‘No, n-no, that’s fine.’ He assured her, yet his restless demeanor proved otherwise. ‘I’ve already come to terms with her death. We both did. That’s why we’re speaking again.’ He added, as Margaret eyed him dubiously.

‘Alright then. I’m sorry about the silence, but the radio in my car just stops working sometimes. Perhaps you could tell me about your wife, while we drive? To avoid awkward silences, you know.’ She chuckled.

‘Sure, why not.’ Merlin answered against himself. This journey was going to be longer than he expected.

 

***

   They reached Iverness without major complications. They had to stop for gas once, and once for Arthur, because he needed to throw up. Besided that, they got there in more or less one piece. They decided that whatever decision they come to make, they need food, a shower and a comfortable bed. Margaret happily agreed to take up a room in their hotel to keep them company. Thinking ahead, by the time they were done with showering and showed up in the lobby, she had found the perfect restaurant. They got into her car once again and within a minutes they sat in a all-you-can-eat diner. They were thrilled with her idea, and thanked her profusely, as they were absolutely starving. They waited until Margaret finished getting her food, and began their food journey together. Arthur was mostly new to any dish they offered in the diner and needed Merlin as his guide when choosing what to eat. He followed him closely and asked about whatever looked or smelled delicious to him.

   They ended up with some of the weirdest platefuls Margaret has ever seen. Arthur’s presented four different types of chicken, some smoked salmon, a spoonful of mashed potatoes and french fries. Merlin’s plate on the other hand offered a baked potato, a cod fillet with cheese, a handful of chicken nuggets and two types of vegetable salads. Margaret watched with her eyes wide open, as the men in front of her basically devoured the contents of their plates. Once done, they stretched in their chairs comfortably, and asked Margaret to stay in the diner for a couple more minutes, since they were positively full and unable to move.

   When they were ready to get up, they jumped into the car and kindly asked Margaret to simply drive them back to the hotel. The full stomachs have made them even drowsier than before. Margaret patiently agreed to do so, even though she herself, wasn’t tired at all, and expected the rest of the day to end up being quite boring. At least she will have all the time to talk to her girlfriend. She’s probably worried sick. But Margaret would much rather tell her everything once she comes back home. She didn’t like the idea of spending hours on the phone. She walked the men to their room, where they thanked her for everything once again, in between yawns.

Buried in thought, she mumbled ‘No problem.’ and smiled at the both of them. Once the door closed behind Arthur, Margaret headed to the lounge. She took out her phone and dialed Janice.

  _‘Hello? Margaret?’_ She heard her girlfriend say, and realised that she hadn’t responded to the first hello. Something was on her mind, something she couldn’t yet put her finger on.

‘Sorry, I keep getting distracted. But I’m fine. And so are Mr. Ealdor and his estranged son.’ She finally managed.

_‘I’m so glad to hear that. What happened? Were they hurt?’_

‘They fell down some rocky pit, would you believe that? They were being chased by animals and the ground simply disappeared from underneath their feet.’

 _‘Oh my!’_ Janice chuckled. _‘That’s such a Mr. Ealdor thing to do!’_ She added as she kept laughing.

‘That’s what I said too!’ Margaret told her girlfriend, as she paced around the lounge. Everything in that place revolved around the Loch Ness. She guessed that tourism was it’s prime source of income.

 _‘And his son, what was his name? I bet the clumsiness runs in the family, what do you think?’_ Asked Janice, playfully. Margaret laughed.

‘I bet it does! His name is Arthur.’ She said as she thought back to the morning. And then she remembered something odd. ‘Huh!’ Margaret exclaimed.

 _‘What is it?’_ She heard over the phone.

‘This is kinda weird. I mean, I just realised, that I’ve never heard Arthur say the word ‘dad’, or ‘father’ or anything of the sort. He’s always addressed him as Merlin.’ Margaret said, clearly perplexed.

_‘Wait, Margaret. Address whom? Who’s Merlin?’_

‘Merlin Ealdor. Arthur’s father. He never addressed him as such.’

 _‘So what you’re telling me’_ Janice paused for a moment. _‘Is that Mr. Ealdor’s name is Merlin?!’_ She yelled through the phone.

Margaret snorted. ‘You never knew? We all worked in the same place!’ She yelled back, but she was grinning. Her girlfriend always knew how to make her smile like an idiot.

_‘Nah, I’ve never worked with him directly. I mostly listened to your stories. Wait, so the father’s name is Merlin, and the son’s Arthur? That’s some weird stuff, Mar. You said the son was estranged? Maybe that’s why he calls him by his name. Family issues. They felt into a pit together, Mar. Nothing surprises me anymore.’_

***

   Margaret has spent another half an hour talking to her girlfriend, promising to tell her all the details when she gets back home. Janice, though impatient, agreed to wait, for Margaret’s sake. She has never stopped pacing around the lounge. It wasn’t holiday season, so there were scarcely any people in the hotel, and more often than not, she was alone. She felt a bit restless, as if something important kept slipping her mind entirely.

 _‘What are you going to do now? Do you have any plans?’_ Janice asked, just as they were finishing their conversation.

‘You know, perhaps I should look around this place. I mean, I’ve no idea when I’ll get this far up north again. Maybe I’ll take a cruise on the lake.’ Margaret mused.

 _‘Mar.’_ Her girlfriend muttered, confused. _‘Do you not remember why I didn’t come along?’_ She asked.

Margaret shuddered. She remembered precisely why, and she remembered precisely what kept slipping her mind. Janice’s words only convinced her thoughts.

 _‘There are no cruises, and no tourist attractions. Everything is closed. The entire country is in mourning. How on earth did you forget about that?’_ The woman sounded genuinely surprised.

But Margaret had another question to ask. ‘Tell me, Jan. Why do you think Mr. Ealdor would lie to me?’

***

   The sun was slowly setting, when Arthur opened his eyes. He looked around the dim room, to find Merlin breathing heavily under his covers. The man was sleeping quite heavily, and nothing Arthur did, besides straight up yelling or pulling at his arm could wake him. The younger man stood in the middle of the room for a while, thinking. What was he to do? With Merlin asleep, was there anything he could actually do? He turned around to look at all their stuff. The Excalibur lay next to his bed, just as Merlin’s books lay next to his. Arthur’s clothes were scattered on the floor, leaving a trail on his way from the door to the bed. Merlin didn’t take off his clothes. The younger man suspected that weariness got the best of him, as it did on multiple occasions before. Seeing all that made him realise, that without his friend there was nothing practical or progressive to be done. He stretched right where stood. And right then, he smelled a foul stench. His stomach lurched. Alarmed instantly, he took a fast look around the room again, searching for danger. But as he kept investigating, the stench subsided. Arthur was utterly confused. He decided that whatever it was, he should better start packing, since odour usually accompanied their mystery enemy. When he raised his arm to grab his bag from the top of a drawer, he could smell it again. He stopped moving for a while. In a wild moment of clarification, he inclined his head and smelled his own armpit. He gagged at the intensity of the smell that reeked from under his naked arm. It was him. He stank so bad, he scared himself. The old man did warn him about eating this much meat, he remembered. This begged for a shower. Arthur grabbed some fresh clothes, and headed to the bathroom. On his way there, he only managed to mentally thank Merlin for his deep sleep.

***

   When Arthur left the shower, he found Merlin not only still sleeping, but also snoring loudly. He chuckled softly at the sounds coming from the older man and decided to aid him, by turning him over. Luckily enough, the rolling over did not wake the sorcerer and significantly diminished the noise. Happy with himself, Arthur picked the key from the bedside table they shared and quietly left the room. His bones and muscles ached, and a stroll, or perhaps even some jogging, seemed like a great way to stretch them. He couldn’t, however, leave the room without his sword. After a good minute of making up his mind, he chose to take it. He stick to the thought that it’s best to be on the safe side, and Merlin could protect himself with magic, if he had to. Arthur without a sword though, was worth as much as fast he could run. And after spending a day in a cave, overeating, and sleeping too long, he wasn’t too sure about his abilities, so the thought wasn’t too comforting.

   Despite his elaborate stretching plans, he didn’t get far as the lobby, before he was snatched by Margaret and back onto the staircase.

‘Fancy meeting you here.’ She said as she kept pulling him upwards. She was visibly displeased, and refused to look at Arthur.

‘Hey! What are you-’ He tried, but didn’t fight her in their way up. Margaret stopped once they reached the very corridor Arthur has left a minute ago.

‘What’s going on?’ He said in a light tone, but his furrowed brow betrayed just how confused, and maybe even worried he was.

‘Who are you?’ Margaret asked in a demanding voice. Her previous cheerfulness seemed to be temporarily gone. Or at least clouded by something else.

‘W-what do you mean? Didn’t Merlin tell you all about us?’ He asked carefully. Margaret widened her eyes in incredulity.

‘Do you hear yourself? If you’re going to lie to me, at least keep up the pretense and call him your father!’ She yelled in a stage whisper. She couldn’t help but show her exasperation, but she didn’t want to attract anyone’s attention either.

   Arthur crossed his arms on his chest, and sighed deeply. What seemed like a moment of resignation was actually a huge mental slap. Or more like a punch. In his mental gut. For being such an inexplicable idiot. No wait, it’s Merlin who’s an idiot. He was the one who came up with the lie in the first place! Arthur must’ve gotten infected with his idiocy. What now? _What now?!_ He ran his hands over his face and looked at Margaret with a silent plea for mercy. What on earth was he supposed to tell her? What lie could possibly be good enough to explain all this mess?

But before he could speak, Margaret asked another question. One she already knew the answer to. ‘He’s not your dad, is he?’ She appeared to have calmed down upon seeing Arthur’s utter lack of resolve.

‘No.’ Arthur answered quietly. ‘He’s not.’

   ‘You know.’ She said, shifting her feet. ‘This isn’t that big of a lie. It’s not like you killed someone.’ At that, she rolled her eyes. ‘But it all seems very sketchy and suspicious. You see my point?’ She asked.

‘I do.’ Admitted Arthur, because he genuinely did.

‘Especially since I found out, your whole “we took a trip” story was a sham. There are no trips, Arthur. The country is in mourning. I even drove to some agency to make sure they’re closed. And you had no car over there. How on earth did you end up in that pit so far away from the hotel?’ As she asked, she peered at him. Arthur’s thoughts raced. He was so lost. Perhaps if he knew more, about… Well… _Anything_ , really! But no, all he had were a few memories, a few facts, a few things he had to simply believe, and his head felt so horribly empty. The little things he had weren’t helping either. He was left with sadness and anger, and what he needed now was a cool head.

   ‘We teleported there.’ He blurted out before he could stop himself.

Margaret’s eyebrows shot upwards. ‘You did what?’

‘We- I mean. He. Merlin. He’s a sorcerer. He teleported us there. You see we were...uh…’ He stopped for a moment, and raised his hands to gesticulate. Instead of speaking, though, he offered Margaret a variety of facial expressions, that conveyed nothing comprehensive. When the look in her eye turned a little impatient, he finally managed to tell her about the dragon. And about the magic. And about him coming out of the lake. He’s spent about ten minutes talking, as they stood together in the corridor, and was just about to go on about his sword, when Margaret abruptly raised her hand, stopping him from further explanation.

‘Whatever joke this is, it’s unfunny. And way too long.’ She said, sounding tired. ‘Please just tell me the truth.’ She pleaded.

‘But all of this is the truth!’ Arthur protested.

‘Do you think I’m an idiot, Arthur? It was a nice fairy tale, but I want to know what the hell is going on!’ She slightly raised her voice, and looked at the man in front of her firmly.

   ‘I’m sorry Margaret, but I mean it. What I told you is the only truth you’ll get from me.’ He answered, sounding quite apologetic.

The woman closed her eyes for a second, and shook her head. When she opened them, all she said was- ‘I don’t have time for this. I’m very sorry, but you’re gonna have to find another way to get to London. I was in for a little adventure, but all you’ve said is nothing but incomprehensible nonsense. Goodbye to you both.’ And like that, she left Arthur alone in the corridor. The man decided that perhaps it was high time to wake up Merlin. Or perhaps he should’ve done that fifteen minutes ago, before he acted like an absolute prat.

  
***

  
   Margaret jumped into her car. She quickly checked the petrol gauge, and drove off as fast as she could. The sooner she gets out of this town the better. She still couldn’t believe, Mr. Ealdor would pull something like this. He always seemed like a good man. What kind of mess did she get herself into? She stopped at a red light and quickly turned on the car radio. Sitting in silence will not do her any good. She then proceeded forward, humming to the songs she knew, and getting into the beat of the ones she didn’t. No matter how much she tried, she couldn’t stop thinking about the whole situation. Then out of the corner of the eye she spotted a road sign, informing her that she has left Iverness. _About time,_ she thought.

   But something suddenly felt weird. It was the radio. It stopped working. It wasn’t malfunctioning or losing signal, it just went dead quiet.

‘Oh no, not again.’ She whispered to herself.

She looked at the radio quizzically, and not knowing what to do, she gave it a little punch. Just then it started to beep. It was a high, very unpleasant sound, that made her head hurt instantly. Not as much as a couple seconds later, the radio spoke. But it was neither music nor a commercial. It was a disturbing, loud voice, that made her shudder.

‘WHERE IS HE’ The voice demanded. Was she being absolutely delusional, or did the radio just talk to her?

‘WHERE IS HE?!’ No matter how many times she would give the radio a little thump, nothing changed. And then the ventilation opened for outside air. A nasty and nauseating stench found it’s way through the blowers and into the car. She gagged, and tried to cover her nose, while maintaining control over the vehicle. She noticed, that along with the smell, the fans puffed some black smoke. She understood none of it. There was nothing in front of her that could possibly be responsible for this kind of trouble.

   And then she saw it. A thick and monstrous wall of black smoke, right ahead of her. She was driving right at it. Quickly, she put two hand on the wheel, and pushing the brake with all her strength, she did a u-turn just in front of the wall. The tires screeched, and there she was getting further away from whatever atrocity she was about to hit. In the rear view mirror, She saw the smoke reaching towards her car and chasing her. She wiped the sweat from her brow, and stepped onto the gas pedal even harder. She has never driven this fast in her entire life. She passed the road sign telling her she was back in Iverness. And the smoke stopped along the accepted border of the city. She drove onto the hard shoulder and stopped her car. Trembling, she got out of the car just in time to see the smoke declining. As it flew away, it seemed to resonate with a disgusting, raspy laugh. Whoever this monstrosity was looking for, her escape pointed it right at them.


	10. Pink Is the New Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And as always, I will do my best to write more. To all of you who haven't given up on me yet - thank you so very much. Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the TV show 'Merlin' or any of its characters.

_‘_ _You did what?!’_

Arthur visibly winced at the volume of Merlin’s voice. As soon as Margaret left, he reopened the hotel room, and woke his friend up. No stretching mattered at this point. They needed to do something. Even if that something was simply getting yet another train tickets. Or maybe they could travel on a plane? The sorcerer’s already told Arthur about the metal flying birds, and however terrified of them Arthur was, considering the circumstances, he was ready to try them out. He didn’t expect the old man to be this angry, though. He expected an _‘Oh no!’,_ or a resigned sigh, but the furious figure in front of him was the furthest from resigned he could be.

 

   ‘Oh come on! What was i supposed to tell her? I had nothing! I have to make a leap of faith every single time you tell me something, why shouldn’t she?’ Said Arthur, evidently trying to calm the other man.

Merlin swayed in his feet, and inhaled loudly.

‘Oh, you know, maybe, hmm. Maybe, because she didn’t walk out of a bloody lake?!’ Answered Merlin, flailing his arms at his sides, to indicate just how sarcastic he was being.

Arthur rolled his eyes. _This conversation is getting us nowhere_ , he thought. And realising what a brilliant point that was, he proceeded to vocalize it.

‘This conversation is getting us nowhere.’ He said in a serious tone, that quickly caught Merlin’s attention. _Aha! It is working,_ he smiled inwardly. ‘She’s probably already on her way out of the city, and what I told her cannot be undone. Besides, she would’ve left anyway. She saw through your lousy lies.’ He added.

 

   Merlin shifted uncomfortably. He knew that his lies weren’t very good. He realised he should’ve known that for someone with Margaret’s wit, it wouldn’t be too long to know them for what they really were. He sighed deeply, and plumped down on his bed. Seeing that, Arthur smirked. He managed to receive the desired reaction from his friend, and couldn’t help but be smug about it.

‘I guess we might as well start packing. There’s a long journey ahead of us.’ Merlin said, looking around at the mess they’ve managed to make in a few days. ‘You clean this up.’ He added pointing at the pile of clothes and pieces of paper that lay scattered on the floor.

‘What? Why me?’ Arthur protested.

‘First of all, because I’m old.’ He answered as he raised himself from the bed. ‘Secondly, because I need to take a shower.’ He added on his way to the bathroom. ‘And finally, because I’m still mad at you.’ He finished and the bathroom door shut behind him.

 

***

 

   The sun was setting down, while Arthur was helping Merlin walk down the stairs. Once they finally managed to get to the bottom, the older man led their way into the lobby. Whilst he was responsible for any possible transactions, Arthur once again became the bearer. The bags weren’t heavy, since Merlin magically made them as light as feathers. But the sheer sight of a man with this many bags, scared people off. It wasn’t the clothes, obviously. It was the books that Merlin kept producing from various pockets, and later would fail to shrink to their previous size. Arthur smiled at a particularly confused girl, who happened to be passing by. In return all she did was walk faster and look the other way. Arthur groaned.

 

   ‘Oh please, don’t you pull that one on me. I know for sure those bags aren’t heavy at all!’ Said Merlin, upon approaching his friend.

‘I wasn’t- uh, nevermind.’ Arthur shook his head in response. They made their way outside and sat on a bench. They still had a couple minutes until the arrival of their taxi. They sat together in silence and watched the mostly silent road in search for their transport. And then, with the shrieking of tires, a familiar car made it’s way around the corner. It approached them at an inappropriate speed, and stopped partly on the pavement. With the engine still running, a trembling and pale Margaret jumped out of the car. She approached them hastily, and motioned for them to get off the bench. Once they did, she lay on it, with her face in her hands, trying to calm down her ragged breath.

 

   The men just stood there watching her, not knowing how to react to all this. They simply waited until Margaret’s breath was steady enough to speak.

‘Margaret?’ Merlin began, to be quickly interrupted.

‘No.’ The woman said. ‘This time I talk, you listen, alright?’ Both men nodded. ‘Alright. A foul, biting stench. First puffs, then an entire wall of thick, black smoke. And this horrible, terrifying voice. _“Where is he?”,_ it asked. Twice. And it laughed as if I’ve given it the answer it was looking for. It appeared right outside of Iverness, and it ended with it. It wouldn’t follow me here. As if it couldn’t.’

A silence resonated among them. Both Merlin and Arthur had their suspicions. And frankly, they were also relieved Margaret was still alive.

 

   ‘Was there anything else? Anything out of ordinary?’ Asked Merlin.

Margaret seemed to be thinking for a while. Then she said, ‘It got cold. the feeling of the smoke on my skin felt cold. I don’t know. Maybe it was just fear. But the smoke left some mushy crap on my fans. You can see for yourselves.’

The men looked at each other in understanding. Arthur carefully opened the car door. The inside of the car smelled all too familiar for them. All it took was one look at the blowers and they knew it was the same moss they found at the Browns’.

‘I’ll help you.’ Came a voice from behind them. They turned around to find Margaret back on her feet. ‘I figured that if anyone knew anything about this madness, it would be you two storytellers. I’ll get you to London. Just please, explain what’s happening!’ The exasperation in her last words gave out just how shaken and hopeless she was. It was obvious that she was afraid of leaving the city alone.

 

   Merlin signaled for Arthur to turn around. He unzipped one of the bags and took out a bottle of water and some tissues. He then proceeded to show Margaret that water could dissolve the moss, and handed her some of the tissues. They wetted them and together washed the fans thoroughly. In the meantime Margaret turned the car off and now they were waiting for the stench to subside. The woman once again asked for explanation. Arthur gave Merlin a look that said _“it’s your turn to talk”,_ and the sorcerer took a deep breath to begin. But then, instead of talking, he just let out the air he inhaled and froze.

 

   Both Margaret and Arthur looked at him expectantly.

‘Um. Sir?’ Said Margaret in a worried tone, after a solid minute of silence.

‘Oh he can’t hear you.’ Arthur chimed in, sounding as if he knew exactly what was going on.

‘Arthur, what has happened to him?’ The woman asked.

‘I can clearly recognize the blank look in his eyes. Frankly, I’ve already gotten used to it. He’s talking to the dragon.’ He answered casually.

‘The dragon?’ Margaret repeated with an utter lack of understanding.

‘He does that sometimes. The dragon is in his head.’ Arthur explained. Upon seeing the _“he’s lost his mind”_ look on the woman’s face, he quickly added, ‘Not literally. He’s not a figment of his imagination either. it’s uh…’ He stopped for a second and gave Merlin a very confused look. ‘Alright, you know, I’ve no idea how this works.’

 

_\---(meanwhile, inside Merlin’s head)---_

 

_Warlock._

 

‘Kilgharrah?’

 

_You need to get out of this town as quickly as possible._

‘Kilgharrah what are you talking about? I have so many questions!’

 

_We do not have the time to talk, Merlin. It’s after you, I can feel it. And it knows where you are. That mortal woman pointed it right at you._

 

‘What is after us? Kilgharrah, what on earth is happening? What is attacking all these people? Did you know about Aithusa’s death?’

 

_I cannot tell you what it is, for I am not sure myself. You are going to have to find an answer in a different place. But my magical awareness was woken up by the sheer strength of some powerful magic._

 

‘Magic? After us? This is all seems so impossible! I thought me and Aithusa were the only magic left in this world.’

 

_It wasn’t a kind of magic you would like to see roaming the world, warlock. It was dark and dangerous. You must run, or it will find a way to get to you._

 

‘Why hasn’t it already? Why couldn’t it enter Iverness?’

 

_I have put you under my magical protection, Merlin. But I’m too weak to keep this for long. That’s why you have to run. I wish you all the luck._

 

‘What? Kilgharrah, don’t just leave like that! What the hell is happening?’

 

‘Kilgharrah? Kilgharrah!’

 

\---

   Merlin got out of his weird trance to a look of worried confusion on the faces of his companions.

‘We need to go.’ He muttered.

‘Pardon?’ One of them said. He couldn’t really make out which one.

‘We need to go.’ He repeated loudly. ‘Get into the car. I’ll explain later.’

And he proceeded to sit in the front seat. However shocked his friends might be, they saw no other choice, but follow in his steps. Margaret helped Arthur put their bags into the trunk of her car, kindly not questioning the fact that they were extraordinarily light. Right after they simply took their seats, and without further ado, drove off.

 

***

   For a moment, they sat in complete silence. Merlin, deep in his thoughts, trying to make sense of Kilgharrah’s words or maybe wake him up to get some answers. Arthur began battling his motion-sickness as soon as the car started moving, so naturally he had no interest in starting a conversation. Margaret on the other hand, although focused on the road, sat on the edge of her seat (that is, figuratively, for she was a very responsible driver). She kept biting her lip and glancing at the two men who seemed to ignore her completely, even though they haven’t yet managed to explain anything. At first she decided that considering how freaky the situation was, they needed their time to start talking. But as soon as they began to approach the city border, her hands began to shake. She was always considered to be adventurous and brave, but under these circumstances she no longer knew what to think even of herself. And so, she could bear the silence no longer.  


 

   Margaret abruptly stopped the car right before the sign that signalized the end of Iverness.

‘No. Margaret no, you’ve got to keep driving.’ Merlin croaked as soon as he realised they’ve stopped.

‘I will if you promise to talk to me.’ She demanded.

‘Yes, alright, alright, just drive.’ He began to panic. The woman turned to change the gear but then remembered something crucial.

‘And no more lies?’ She questioned.

‘N-no. I promise.’ Answered Merlin, drops of sweat forming on his brow. Margaret sighed and pushed the gas pedal. They left the city without a trace of black smoke following them.

 

***

   Arthur stared down at his hot-dog with disgust. On one hand, he was starving. They’ve been driving and talking, and driving more for the past 4 hours. They’ve stopped twice because Merlin needed to pee (both him and Margaret thought it would be rude to comment on that, since it’s nobody’s fault he’s old). Other than that, they were cruising on British motorways, sometimes asking for directions, other times calling Janice for help, or simply relying on something the women called ‘the Internet’ and ‘Google maps’. On the other hand, he suspected that were he to eat anything at all, his motion sickness will make sure he’ll shortly throw it all back up. He grunted angrily and wriggled his legs with frustration.

 

   ‘What on Earth are you doing to that hot-dog?’ Asked Merlin from his part of the curb they were sitting on. Arthur looked at him accusingly.

‘I’m hangry.’ He said, as if that explained everything.

‘The country?’ The tone of Merlin’s voice suited the incredulous look on his face.

Arthur shook his head with confusion and spitted out ‘No I’m just very hungry, but also angry because of my motion sickness. I’m hangry.’

Understanding dawned on Merlin’s face as he fought an urge to burst out laughing. ‘Oh I didn’t know you were capable of advanced, creative thinking like this.’ He said mockingly, and giggled. He looked at his scowling friend fondly and added ‘Centuries or not, You’ll always be a dollophead.’

‘A what?’

‘A dollophead.’ Merlin repeated.

‘What on earth is that?’ Arthur demanded.

‘In one word?’

'Sure.’

‘You.’

 

***

   The coffee machine seemed to take hours to produce the slightest amount of water. Margaret felt as if she’s been standing there for hours. She also felt that their car ride lasted approximately 4 years. Or maybe that’s how many she mentally aged after hearing all of Merlin’s stories. Her mind was racing and yet she felt exhausted. She waited for the last droplets of coffee to fall into her cup and picked it up.

‘Do you know if they have anything that I won’t throw up right after I get into the car?’ She heard just as she got hold of her beverage and almost ended up spilling it. ‘Oh, I’m sorry if I scared you. Didn’t mean too.’ She turned around to see Arthur standing in front of her with his hot-dog intact and a pained expression on his face.

‘I can get you rice wafers, they’re pretty neutral.’ She smiled weakly.

‘That’d be great, thank you.’ He said as he did his best to return the smile.

 

   ‘I appreciate your effort to make this casual, but I’m really having a hard time believing my own senses right now.’ She added, exhaling loudly. She walked to the window of the gas station that had a table and two bar-stools in front of it. She sat and Arthur wordlessly followed. Together they looked at the gas station in front of them and the sun setting over it. It was getting colder and darker with every minute. Soon they’re going to have to get back on the road. Neither of them was willing to do so, each for their own reasons. Soon they will probably have to look for a motel. Margaret wasn’t sure how long she could keep driving. It was an odd feeling. Being presented with something that made no sense whatsoever, and yet it was the only thing that made sense.

 

   She listened to everything the men told her. And she assumed they were telling the truth. Or at least (as she liked to put it) everything they believed to be true. As soon as she could she called Janice and asked her to join them in London. She needed support. She needed to know she wasn’t insane and alone in all of this. Just as she was going over everything in her head once again and Arthur seemed to daze off completely, the door swooshed open and Merlin stumbled inside. She already knew what he was going to say.

 

   ‘We’d better get going.’ Yep. Exactly what she expected. ‘Are you gonna finish that?’ He added pointing at Arthur’s hot dog.

‘Merlin, dear, I haven’t even started it.’ He answered and handed the sorcerer his food with fake courtesy.

‘Good.’ The older man said and simply began munching.

Arthur rolled his eyes and stood up, signaling the bathroom door with his finger. Margaret nodded and turned to the setting sun again. If someone had told her a few days ago, that she would be sitting in a gas station in the middle of Britain with a cup of crappy coffee in her hand, next to the greatest sorcerer who ever lived devouring a hot dog, waiting for King Arthur to finish peeing, so she could help him choose rice wafers for the road, she’d at least call the police. And yet there she was, choosing to open google maps yet again. She sighed. _Could this get any weirder?,_ she thought. And as it usually happens, when someone asks that - it simply did.

 

***

   The sun was no longer visible at this point. The sky still glowed with the aftermath of the setting, and the air seemed to hum quietly, as if creating a suspense of waiting for the light to subside completely. The mosquitoes were everywhere. Little did they know, that just a couple hundred meters away, there was a lake that allowed those blood-sucking insects to breed conveniently. The more time passed the more they heard the buzzing over the humming. And it wasn’t a pleasant sound at all. The sole prospect of ending up bloated and itchy made Margaret skin’s crawl. But she kept walking alongside the curb, because she couldn’t bear sitting, when she knew she would soon have to. She looked at her phone. It’s been 15 minutes.

 

   ‘It’s been fifteen minutes!!!’ She yelled loudly, turning on her heel and scaring the hell out of Arthur. He flinched at her sudden outburst, but tried to play it off as avoiding mosquitoes. Margaret winced at the failed attempt.

‘I already told you, I don’t know how this works. There isn’t much we can do.’ He looked at her miserably. She squinted her eyes and examined him thoroughly.

‘You’re just saying that because you don’t want to get into the car. Because you get motion-sick’ She pointed at him accusingly. Arthur’s face reddened. He’d love to deny her words, but he knew he’d be lying to himself if he did. Frankly, he has just finished eating one packet of rice wafers and was battling the plastic wrapping of another one. And he didn’t fancy the idea of losing his entire meal to some moving piece of machinery.

   ‘That hardly matters! I’ve told you this before. I know nothing about this stuff. Hell, I barely remember who I am!’ He exclaimed, resigned.

‘Well I think we should at least try to wake him. Move him. Talk to him, shake him, whatever! But I can’t take this waiting any longer. I don’t even know what’s happening!’ Said Margaret as she approached Merlin. He was standing in the middle of the parking lot, swaying in his feet, his eyes closed, talking to the “dragon”. They’ve been waiting for him to come back to reality for solid fifteen minutes. And it was getting them nowhere. She heard a heavy sigh and someone scrambling back to their feet behind her back.

Arthur walked over to the two and muttered ‘Alright, you old oaf. How do we wake you up this time?’

 

_***(Merlin’s head)***_

 

‘No, No!!! Kilgharrah you’ve got to listen to me! You’re here to help me not keep secrets! Do I have to beg you for the tiniest of hints and pieces of information?!’

 

_Warlock, it is not your place to dictate what I am here to do. I shall tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it. It has always been this way!_

 

‘Well then it’s high time your attitude changed. I need to know more, and--’  
  
_Merlin, I think your friends might be trying to get your attention._  
  
‘What?? Don’t change the subject!’  
  
It was never my intention to do so. It just seems you might have lost track of time whilst yelling at me.

 

***

 

   The first thing Merlin felt after getting out of his head was pain. And more accurately, a pinching pain in his cheeks. As his consciousness settled in reality, he came to the realization that someone was slapping him repeatedly. And that someone happened to be Arthur Pendragon.

‘What the hell--’ He exclaimed as he lunged backwards to avoid another session of hitting. He fell on his arse and stared disapprovingly at his friend. ‘What the hell, Arthur?!’ He repeated from the ground. Arthur bent down to pick up the older man and answered calmly

‘Mate, we’ve been waiting for you to come out of your shell for the past fifteen--’

‘It’s twenty now, actually.’ Margaret chipped in. ‘We’ve been waiting twenty minutes.’

Merlin’s eyes widened.

 

   ‘Goodness, I was gone that long? I’m very sorry about that.’ Said the sorcerer, because he truly was.

‘You don’t have to be sorry. I just don’t feel like being excluded and left on the ice anymore. I wish I knew what was happening when all I get is staring at you and slowly losing my mind.’ The woman explained. ‘Is there any way you could share what the dragon is saying? I mean…’ She grunted. ‘It’s really difficult to believe you’re talking to anyone but yourself, let alone a dragon…’ By the way she said it, it was obvious she was trying to be gentle about it, but Merlin knew what she meant. He looked like a madman, standing for twenty minutes in one place and claiming he spoke to some ancient beast that resides in his mind. But what could he do to make this any better? The dragon needed a host. And any animal with a consciousness of its own would block the magical being and force it to talk through them. He would need something without a mind of its own--

  
   ‘Eureka!’ Merlin yelled gleefully, startling his companions. He stumbled towards the car and opened the trunk. He pulled out one of the “extraordinarily light bags” and started rummaging through it. He pulled out something that from a distance looked like a pink fluffy ball. He turned his back to his confused friends and began murmuring under his nose. He kept on talking for about a minute, and his whisper was only sometimes interrupted by something shining in his hands. When he was clearly done, he wobbled slightly, suddenly weaker, but managed to get hold of the trunk and remain standing. He then slowly turned around and motioned for Arthur and Margaret to come over. Cautiously, they did. In Merlin’s hands there was a plushy pink dragon. And the longer they looked the more they realised it was moving. It stretched its paws and yawned. It looked at their gaping faces and then back at Merlin. It opened its mouth, and a deep voice spoke up, saying ‘Aren’t you going to introduce us, warlock?’


	11. Wooden Sticks and Wooden Swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all! It's terribly late, hopefully not too late! I guess I should just stop kidding both you and myself that these chapters are going to be coming in regularly. Just await another one, if you're still interested, please! Lemme just assure you that no matter what, I will finish this story. Enjoy!

   Merlin truly thought that giving the dragon an outer form, one that will allow his companions to talk to it directly, is a good idea. He thought that in this way he would be able to convince them he isn’t lying, as well as save time, since he would no longer faze out and then be forced to give his friends a recap of the conversations that have been taking place inside his head. He actually, genuinely thought, that now everything is going to solve itself. Everyone will be able to talk with one another. And Kilgharrah, supported by Merlin’s magical remnants will be able to keep his presence in the pink plushie for longer than he was inside the warlock’s head. A startled jump from Arthur was not the reaction he anticipated. And the shrill, panicked yell that escaped Margaret’s lungs was the last thing he expected. 

   So naturally, as most Merlin’s plans, however brilliant, turning Kilgharrah pink and fluffy failed to work the way he intended it to do so. Instead of saving time, they ended up having to listen to Margaret’s rant and do their best to calm her down, because she, being the designated driver, refused to sit behind the wheel. This time with the help of Kilgharrah, Merlin was yet again forced to explain anything he possibly could. Which wasn’t as easy as it may sound. Firstly, Merlin himself, having lived for far too long to remember every detail of his life, had issues recalling the past. Then, there was Kilgharrah, whose mind, although not affected by time, worked in mysterious ways, making him speak in even more mysterious riddles. And as one may imagine that didn’t sit well with Margaret, to say the least. Quite frankly, it infuriated her. 

   Once she tired herself out they were back on the road. It was already dark when they began their journey. And they knew that soon they are going to be forced to make a stop yet again. No matter how much stamina Margaret claimed she had, she had to sleep at some point. And the whole fluffy dragon situation didn’t help her rest either. Merlin ensured her that even with the help of his magic, Kilgharrah will not be able to impose his presence onto the toy for long. Yet, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy. She did her best to focus on the road, but in the back of her mind she kept thinking about the pink plushie with the deep voice. And that thought in itself was deeply unsettling. Just to make sure the dragon doesn’t randomly pop up and startle his friends yet again, Merlin decided to take matters into his own hands. He sneakily imposed a locking spell on Kilgharrah. Now the dragon could only speak when given permission or called upon, by nobody else but Merlin. The spell would even wake the warlock from his sleep. For a second he allowed himself to be proud of his achievement - for a second he felt like he was the one in control.

   They reached what looked like a cheap inn sometime around 5 a.m. Given Margaret’s heavy eyelids and Arthur’s greenish hue, Merlin commanded them to rent a room and stay to get some rest. All the imnottireds and ifeelfines were dismissed by the warlock. He was positive that the last thing his companions wanted was to stall. So naturally, he took the responsibility on himself. 

‘I am old, I am tired, my bones hurt like hell, I don’t want to hear any more excuses. We’re staying.’ he told them. 

Having looked at each other in silent surprise at the sudden decisiveness and sternness of Merlin’s voice, his friends followed him inside wordlessly. 

   The owner of the Inn was furious that he was forced to give them a room at this hour of the day. Nonetheless, he said nothing, only stared at the peculiar group in disdain. He would get paid for his efforts, after all. The Inn was situated on the outskirts of a tiny town, which had a name so complicated, Arthur not only failed to remember it, but also didn’t even bother trying to pronounce it. Before they finally collapsed onto their beds (Merlin and Arthur in a kingsize, couple fitting one, since Margaret refused to sleep next to either of them), they could hear the owner of the place mumbling something about ‘bloody tourists’ and ‘hoping they weren’t here for the fair’, because ‘the townsfolk have enough to prepare with their citizens alone’ and ‘they don’t like when people barge in unannounced and eat their food without helping’. Once they were all underneath covers - still in their clothes, each promising to take a shower in the morning, or more accurately, later in the day - they all sighed deeply. 

‘Maybe we’ll check out the fair tomorrow’ Mumbled Arthur into his pillow. 

Margaret raised her exhausted head slightly and said weakly ‘Aren’t we in a hurry?’ 

‘Probably’ Breathed out Arthur. ‘I just really feel like we should go.’ 

And with the town fair as their final sleepy thought, they were asleep within seconds.

 

***

 

   Arthur was the first one to wake up. He briefly opened his eyes, but upon not recognizing his surroundings, he decided to give his mind a while to properly come back to life. Once he felt the world around him slow down, he turned to lay on his back and opened his eyes. The sound he could hear once his eyes were closed became apparent once he turned his head to look at Merlin. The man was snoring as if his life depended on it. Arthur decided it was time to get up. He looked at the clock on his bedside table. It said 11.00 a.m. Though he still struggled with the concept of time, he knew they should all probably be getting ready for the road already. But even when they were sleeping, his companions had their exhaustion written on their faces. Arthur inhaled deeply. The room reeked of unwashed, sweaty bodies. He winced inwardly. There wasn’t much he could do to remedy that. With the lack of any other reasonable solution, once again, he simply headed towards the shower. 

 

***

   It wasn’t long before Margaret woke up as well. And following in Arthur’s footsteps, she rummaged through her baggage and with fresh clothing in one hand and toothbrush in the other, she went into the bathroom. Meanwhile, Arthur did his best to gently wake up Merlin. It was a difficult thing to do, since the warlock slept quite heavily and somehow refused to wake up. Once awake, he too chose to freshen up before leaving. When they were all ready, it was well past noon. They went downstairs into the lobby and met the still properly disgruntled owner. Once again, he didn’t complain, only eyed them suspiciously. He proceeded to talk about the fair, and the very idea of it seemed to get on his nerves. To Margaret he looked like someone who simply didn’t like having fun and  other people having fun offended him. Before they left, to the woman and the warlock’s utter surprise, Arthur asked the unhappy man for directions, as to how to get to said fair. However irritated with the question he was, the owner answered it without hesitation.

   Once they were outside, they packed their things into Margaret’s car. The sun peaked - it was sweltering and unbearably sunny. Their eyes hurt from having to squint to see anything at all. 

‘I guess that means we’re going to the fair then?’ Margaret said, covering her eyes with her left hand. 

‘Are you sure it’s important?’ Merlin inquired. He was sweating visibly already. ‘We really can’t lose any more time now. Besides, the weather is killing me.’ 

‘I don’t know.’ Arthur shook his head in uncertainty. ‘I just felt something. Like a nudge in my gut, once the guy behind the counter mentioned the fair. And I’ve felt it all this time, and I still do. As if there was something waiting for me there.’ 

   Merlin’s and Margaret’s eyes locked for a second. Even though Arthur’s words sounded genuine, he might be leading them into a trap. After all, Kilgharrah told them to run. And perhaps whatever was luring Arthur into the fair, had bad intentions. Nonetheless, seeing how desperate Arthur was for them to believe him, they nodded in agreement. They were going to the fair, just like he wanted. 

‘Just make sure to take your sword with you.’ Merlin whispered to his friend as they were about to leave Margaret’s car. The knight nodded and secured the belt strap on his waist, as if to show that even though invisible, the sword never left his side. 

 

***

 

   The directions they got at the inn proved to be both accurate and useful. The fair indeed turned out to be within walking distance from the place, even for Merlin and his ancient joints. Once they saw the fair, they all grinned gleefully. The place was crowded with people, but in a positive, comforting way. Children were running around chasing one another, people were chattering loudly, the clatter of steel against steel of the medieval show at the back of the fair could be heard above the pleasant noise. There were stalls with traditional food as well as ones with manually crafted utensils being sold by their very craftsmans. People laughed and the atmosphere was chaotic, yet oddly comfortable and calm. Even if they were wasting time, this felt like the perfect place to get their minds off of the issue at hand. 

   As soon as their feet crossed the line of the first stall, they all got dragged towards an open tent to sit on a bench by the table full of vegetables and short, thin, wooden sticks. 

‘Ah yes, our final three contestants, thank you Anthony, thank you Matilda.’ Exclaimed the man who they presumed led the competition, whilst nodding towards the children who dragged them onto the bench. They could simply refuse and get up, saying they were only passers-by, but curiosity won over the need to continue their trip around the fair. Once they’re here they might as well help themselves to whatever the townsfolk had to offer. ‘The rules are simple. You grab the vegetables, you grab the sticks, as many as you need, as many as you want, and you build a little vegetable person as best as you can! Ready? Set? Grab ‘em!’ 

The man began the competition with an excited laugh. The other people by the table rushed to get the best of the best of vegetables presented to them on the table. However slightly late, the three companions proceeded to follow in their steps.

   For a few minutes they all worked in silence only asking one another for a certain vegetable to pass or to switch. After a while people began to finish their work. Each left a card with their name on it, as the jury was to pick the nicest of the vegetable people and award its creator. Considering they were in no rush, after a half an hour of vegetable picking Arthur and Merlin were the only ones remaining at the table. Even Margaret left already  - her beetroot-headed little person left on the table next to her name - and went to look around and find something to eat. 

‘Take your time boys.’ Said the man who began the competition, giving each a friendly pat on the back. They both smiled in response and went on to continue their work. 

   Then, Merlin put down his vegetable person down and sighed, satisfied with his piece of art. He then took the card into his hand and wrote down the name ‘Arthur’ on it. 

‘What are you writing my name on your work for?’ Asked the man in question. 

‘His name is Arthur.’ The warlock shrugged. 

‘Why on earth?’ The knight furrowed his brow, failing to understand. 

‘Do you know what vegetable this is?’ Said Merlin, pointing to the little guy’s head. 

‘No idea. It looks like a tiny cabbage.’ Answered Arthur dismissively. 

‘Exactly. It’s a cabbage head. Literally. Just like you.’ Explained Merlin, snickering and holding back laughter. 

‘Wha- What?’ Arthur asked, more confused than ever. Was his friend losing his mind? How did this make any sense to him at all? 

‘I couldn’t put a dollop there so i settled for the second best.’ Those words and an impish grin seemed to be the only words he had left for Arthur. And in that moment, despite his white beard and time-showing face, Merlin looked like a nineteen year old boy, who was just making, what he thought was, the greatest joke anyone has ever done. And then, it happened again. 

 

   This time felt like falling down from a cliff and hitting the water. Dangerous, risky, takes your breath away, but leaves you laughing and excited.

 

_    A man - a little tipsy, so to say, laughing gleefully with another one - who seemed to tower over everybody else, both holding mead in their hands. Around them others - one with jet black hair and even darker eyes, watching them from a bench shyly, yet smiling as well; one with his locks jumping around his head as he trembled with laughter; one covering his mouth in glee, as he couldn’t hold back the roar of laughter - he seemed the youngest of them all - and finally, a young, thin boy, wet from head to toe, laughing under his nose, embarrassed. _

 

   Once the images stopped, Arthur closed his eyes. He knew they were memories. Upon recalling them, he could fit the men’s silhouettes with the names and descriptions Merlin had provided him with. He saw Gwaine with Percival, and then Lancelot, Leon and Mordred, and finally Merlin himself - all those hundreds of years younger than now. As more memories, both good and bad of him and his friends, no - his family, began filling his mind, a single tear escaped Arthur’s closed eyes. Once he opened them, he was met by Merlin’s guilt-stricken face. 

‘I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just kidding. It’s an inside joke we used to have before you-’ But before he could finish, Arthur laughed and wiped his cheek dry. 

‘Don’t worry. They were memories. I finally have something good in my head that I can remember.’ He sighed audibly. ‘And I am NOT a cabbage head, Merlin!’ He added with false seriousness and they both grinned at each other. 

 

***

 

   After they finally finished up with the competition, they searched the fair for Margaret. They found her waiting for them with food on the table and smiled at her thankfully. They were both starving. Later all three of them turned to admire the swordsmen who entertained their audience with a staged fight. The sun was no longer deadly, as some clouds showed up to aid the fair attendants. And so, with the temperature bearable, the main speaker announced a competition. Men and women of ages 18+ were to volunteer and upon receiving wooden swords to fight against each other. The contest aimed to uncover the greatest swordsman of them all. Obviously, Arthur volunteered. He handed Merlin his sword and picked up a wooden one. He then proceeded to take Merlin with him to the practice dummy to warm up a bit. Margaret stayed with the audience, staring at other contestants and reading into their fights carefully, learning their skills to let Arthur know what he’s getting himself into. And just like that, the tournament began. 

 

***

   Arthur proceeded to win a fight after fight without breaking a sweat. One after one people yielded to him. And finally he won against the last contestant. Happy with himself and proud of his abilities he raised his arms in a sign of victory. The audience cheered on him, excited. However, the competition seemed to not be over quite yet. Through the whistles and the clapping he could hear the speaker say, that to claim the title of the best swordsman, he must also beat last year’s champion. Someone, who, as he came to understand, hasn’t been beaten ever since he became the champion. Arthur turned to Merlin for some water. And then, the audience erupted with glee. He turned on his heel to see his last opponent. But instead of approaching him, he freezed. He quickly turned to Merlin and caught the same, astonished look he probably had on his own face. It couldn’t possibly be! He was… Here? Now? What on earth is this? How is this possible? A thousand thoughts rushed through his head, to no avail. And before he had the time to say anything to Merlin, his opponent spoke up. 

   ‘You gonna stand there and stare, pretty?’ He laughed playfully. ‘We ain’t got all day, y’know. And yes, I get it, I’m unbearably handsome, but we did come here to fight, alright?’ He added motioning for Arthur to step forward to the middle of the fighting pit. Arthur shook his head and moved as he was told. He didn’t know what to think of it all. Should he attack? Should he fight at all? Perhaps he should just yield? Was this man the nudging feeling he’s been having ever since their check-in at the inn? He assumed a fighting stance and bettered his grip on the wooden sword. The speaker announced that the fight has officially began. His opponent lunged forward, attacking with one hand. Arthur avoided the sword and ended up standing right in front of Merlin. The warlock’s face showed every emotion the knight felt. After all, not everyday do you see King Arthur fighting in a sword melee against one of his greatest knights and oldest friends - no other, but Gwaine himself.


	12. 21st century blessings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, what's up, how have y'all been doing? I won't bother being apologetic about how late this chapter is, since I can't guarantee the next one won't be quite as late. I hope some of y'all are still here, and haven't given up on me, because I sure as hell ain't giving up on this story. 
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> ___

   Only in hindsight did Arthur truly appreciate the sheer dumb luck he had when fighting against Gwaine. He knew his face well from his visions, and with Merlin’s help learned the name corresponding to the face. To think that he’s seen that face so many times already, be it in the past he didn’t remember or in the present through his visions, Arthur was one step from having yet another set of memories flooding his mind. The fact that fighting Gwaine didn’t trigger anything substantial and Arthur didn’t just collapse there and then was luck in itself. But the very fact that they managed to find him? To meet him? Merlin’s utter confusion only supported the idea that nobody expected their long-dead friend to be anywhere close to being alive, and yet Gwaine just stumbled into the fighting pit, as young and as ridiculously pretty and flirty as Merlin remembered him. 

   Though lucky, Merlin couldn’t help but feel even more confused than he had before. He knew he barely had any grasp of what what actually happening, but after seeing a friend he never thought he would actually see again, Merlin felt again like that boy from Ealdor, whose magic has just been discovered by his “to be superior” - Gaius. Lost and unsure of his situation. Afraid. Merlin knew he should be thrilled - to see such an unlikely ally in such terrible circumstances! And yet deep down he was far too convinced that Gwaine’s appearance was indicative of something much greater than a friends reunion, to ever consider being nothing but happy at this sight. 

   Then there was the question of whether Gwaine actually remembered anything. He sure seemed utterly oblivious. Perhaps he was like Arthur - awaken. But then how come he’s been living in this village for years, winning the tournaments? No, none of this made sense to Merlin. Perhaps he was born some time before Arthur’s arrival to be ready for it? But then, who or what was to be held responsible? And what was the purpose of it all? When he ran out of the ‘why’ and ‘how’ questions, Merlin began with yet another set. If Gwaine is here, is everybody else, too? Percival, Lancelot, Elyan, Gwen, Gaius? And then, what about the other prominent figures? Uther, Mordred… Morgana? Merlin’s head began throbbing with pain, and his heart seemed to speed up with each second. 

   A tiny bit of his consciousness was aware that there was a fight going on right before his very eyes. He felt that perhaps he should care about the outcome, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He stood there, frozen, staring blindly at the battlefield, his unseeing eyes going over the dancing figures, unable to identify them. From the corner of her eye, Margaret spotted him. She could easily tell he was in deep emotional distress. It wasn’t any talent of hers - Merlin was sweating all over, and opening and closing his mouth repeatedly. Without hesitation, forgoing the entertainment of the duel, she made her way through the crowd to the absent-minded warlock. 

   ‘Merlin, Sir? What’s going on?’ she asked matter-of-factly. 

Merlin continued to sway in his feet slightly, but the rapid blinking of his eyes showed he was, in fact, trying to regain his awareness of the situation. After a solid minute of shoulder shaking and glancing nervously at the duelling Arthur, Margaret could honestly say that the wizard finally could recognize whom he was looking at. ‘Sir, please, you have me all worried.’ she said earnestly. Worry was written all over her face. Not the anger or confusion she expressed before - now that she’s spent some time with the men and finally decided to just go with the madness, she genuinely cared for both of them. 

   Merlin’s eyes finally reached hers. 

‘Gwaine.’ he whispered. ‘Sir Gwaine of the Round Table. Dueling Arthur Pendragon. In the 21st fucking century.’ 

Merlin’s whisper turned into a course laugh as he raised his head to look at the dueling figures. Margaret’s eyes followed suit. The men in question were dancing around each other, wooden swords in hands. Arthur’s determination showed on his face. Gwaine, on the other hand, laughed through it all. His shoulder length hair was plastered on top of his forehead with sweat, and his cheeks bore specks of mud. He breathed heavily and yet, the enormous, happy grin never left his face. 

   ‘How…?’ Margaret began. 

‘I don’t know’ cut in Merlin. ‘Whatever it is you want to ask about - I don’t know.’ 

Margaret nodded slightly. There was no reason for the warlock to hide anything from her at this point and she understood that. Also, by the very look on his face, she was positive this situation was almost as foreign to him as it was to her. And so, they simply carried on watching the fight. It went on longer than all the previous ones. The voice commented over the speakers that perhaps, at last, their champion had found himself a worthy adversary. 

   Arthur rolled forward in the mud. He was focused on the fight more than he thought was humanly possible, but his mind never skipped a beat. In his head he was going over the same set of questions Merlin asked himself minutes before. His eyes watched carefully each of his opponent’s steps at the same time searching for any trick, any misconduct, anything that could prove all this to be a poor joke or else. But he continued to find nothing. The utter glee on Gwaine’s face only supported the idea that this was no ploy at all. That this was the real deal. The man wiping sweat from his brow in front of him and playfully changing his fighting arm along with his fighting stance showed no sign of malicious motive. He also didn’t seem to be conscious of the situation. Which only made Arthur even more perplexed. 

   Arthur was confident in his fighting skills, but with passing blows and evasions he began to feel his own lack of shape.  _ Centuries of sleep do that to people, ey? _ He thought to himself. And so, he was determined to bring the duel to an end. He saw the sword in Gwaine’s left hand and quickly aimed at his right. But Gwaine was in no bad shape - he leaped backwards and answered with a blow of his own, almost throwing Arthur off his feet. Gwaine chuckled. 

‘Getting tired, are we?’ He breathed over the chattering crowd. 

Arthur didn’t trust himself to respond. Instead he affirmed his stance and, seeing as he indeed, was getting tired, attacked low. Gwaine’s agility once again beat him to it. The man jumped over the wooden sword, and as soon as he was on his feet pushed forward. Gwaine’s wooden sword met Arthur’s chest with a painful thump, and this time the latter didn’t manage to stay on his feet.

   Arthur fell backwards, his arms flailing around him. As Gwained neared him, he rushed backwards still on his back, his wooden sword in front of him. Gwaine stroke mercilessly at his figure, eventually knocking the wooden sword from Arthur’s hands. ‘Sorry, mate. I can’t just let a newcomer take my title. I ain’t got much, but this I take for granted.’ He added as he pushed his wooden sword towards Arthur’s neck. Arthur did not feel like fighting anymore. He felt like having a long bubbly bath and tea. He was covered in mud and bruises and he was quite satisfied with himself that he got this far with so little practice. 

‘I yield.’ He tried to say, his voice coarse with exhaustion. ‘I YIELD!’ he repeated, loudly. 

   Gwaine lowered his sword in response and in the same moment the crowd erupted with glee. The voice stated over the speakers that once again, Gwaine Lotsson was the fair’s duelling champion. Gwaine reached forward to help Arthur stand. Arthur graciously accepted the help, as he held no grudge towards his opponent. He was far too confused to even consider that. The crowd kept on cheering and Gwaine continued to jump around them, presenting himself as a winner, and presenting Arthur as the runner-up. Arthur did his best to remain standing and waved at the audience smiling shyly. Soon, the crowd began to dissipate.  Gwaine was brought the very trophy he has held in his living room for the past years and very quickly, except for the few volunteers who were there to clean everything up, Merlin Margaret were the only ones left in the audience. 

   At this point the sun has already set, and Arthur made his way to his friends, feeling bruises grow on his body with each step. He reached them quietly and felt Margaret’s arm closing on his own. 

‘You did great. I didn’t know you were that good of a swordsman.’ She said gently. 

Arthur gave her a weak smile in response. He wasn’t sure whether his exhaustion was more emotional or physical. With one look of understanding from Merlin, however, he could tell it was both. 

‘We need to talk. In private. Now.’ Muttered Arthur tiredly. 

And so, they began to slowly walk towards their car, but before they even made it to the end of the fair, they heard rushing footsteps behind them.

   ‘There you are! Why would you just leave like that?’ Gwaine's voice reached them.  They turned around and through the growing darkness all they were sure of was the unmistakable grin of their old friend. ‘You’ve probably heard already, but I’m Gwaine.’ The man said, extending his hand to each of the three. ‘Merlin, Arthur and Margaret.’ He repeated their introductions. ‘A funny set of names, aren’t ya?’ He chuckled and earned himself a giggle from Margaret. ‘You’re not from here, are ya?’ Gwaine added. 

‘No, we are not. We’re on the road actually.’ Answered Margaret, feeling the least tired of the three. 

‘Road where, if I may? And from, if that’s okay.’ Inquired the man. 

‘We left Inverness yesterday, and we’re on our way to London.’ The woman answered calmly. 

‘Now that’s quite the road trip!’ Exclaimed Gwaine happily. ‘You’re headed to your hotel or something alike, yeah? I could walk you there, talk for a bit, if that’s okay.’ 

‘We were actually thinking about hitting the road right away. We already checked out of our hotel and seeing as our resources are dwindling…’ Margaret said, feeling it spoke for itself. 

   ‘Oh.’ Gwaine exclaimed. He was visibly disappointed. For a split second Merlin had the wild idea that maybe he did remember everything. That maybe he was convinced they didn’t and wanted to help them remember. But that incredulous flicker of hope died as soon as it was born. Merlin knew Gwaine - and he knew him better than most people. Gwaine was a sociable and open person. If this Gwaine is anything like the one he used to know, all that the man was hoping for was probably new mates to enjoy some beer with. And he couldn’t blame him for that, since he never held it against him. That’s just Gwaine for you. Perhaps, he could, after all, find some consolation in the fact that though they’re centuries apart, both Gwaines were mostly motivated by booze. 

   ‘Are you really going to drive in this state?’ It was again the knight that broke the silence. ‘All covered in mud and sweaty and gross? In the car for a tiring drive?’ Margaret winced audibly as she sniffed Arthur’s arm. It was her car, after all. Gwaine chuckled at the motion. ‘I’ll take that as a no. Considering just how great of an opponent you were, Arthur -’ Gwaine stopped for a second to gain the other man’s attention. ‘It should only be logical of me to invite you and your friends over for some washing up and drinking. You may also choose to sleep, I won’t blame you for that. But I’d also love to hear about that adventure of yours! What do you say, mates?’ He asked, presenting the way that would presumably lead to his house. 

   ‘I think-’ began Merlin, gaining the attention of their tiny crowd. ‘We’ll take you up on that offer. I’m beat. And you smell.’ He finished pointing at Arthur. 

Arthur nodded in response and took in his general looks - he could no longer tell where he had mud and where he didn’t. 

‘Lead the way.’ Sighed Arthur in response. 

Gwaine grinned even wider than before, if that’s possible. He motioned them to follow him and, gathering his winnings, began to lead the way towards his house. Then, he suddenly stopped in his tracks. 

‘One last thing.’ He said, without the usual carefreeness that filled his persona. ‘I live with my husband. I need to know if any of you have a problem with that.’ The question was dead serious, but the only serious answer to give came from Arthur, who decidedly shook his head. Merlin seemed to be suffocating. Or at least trying to suffocate himself, so that he would not burst out laughing.  Margaret answered audibly. 

‘Do YOU mind me calling my wife in the middle of the night?’ She said, smirking. 

Satisfied with his answer, Gwaine motioned for them to keep on moving. 

   ‘What the hell was that? Are you dying or something?’ Arthur whispered to Merlin as soon as he was positive Gwaine wouldn’t hear him. 

‘Oh, no, I’m fine. It’s just -’ The warlock paused, earning himself a pair of raised eyebrows from his friend. Biting down a grin, he finished ‘It’s just I know exactly who his husband is.’ 

***

   With Gwaine’s upbeat chattering, they reached his house in no time. It was one of those mesmerizing Victorian style buildings. There were at least seven identical ones on the street, and yet each was just as interesting as the other. The details around the windows and the door where white, or at least brighter, is all they could tell in the darkness. There was a light hanging over the porch that attracted all sorts of buzzing creatures into its fold. There was a single rocking chair to the left of the door. Next to it was a soft shapeless cushion that served as a sofa, since it was big enough for a human to enjoy it comfortably. In between there was a tiny coffee table with two empty cups on top of it. Gwaine reached for the cups as soon as they ascended the few steps and uttered an apology. 

   As they have already established that Gwaine, being… well… Gwaine, has forgotten his keys, cups in one hand, the knight pressed the doorbell and they all waited. After a while they could hear the shuffling steps of Gwaine’s husband. Gwaine smiled sweetly at the sound, and waited for the lights in the corridor leading to the front door to be lit only to yell ‘It’s me, Gwaine!’ for his husband to know in advance. A deep sigh, fumbling keys and the turning of the lock followed. Eventually the door was opened, and a nearly 7-feet-tall man appeared in them. 

‘Hi’ smiled Gwaine. ‘Guess who’s won again.’ The man in the door smiled softly, annoyance giving way for curiosity and amusement on his face. He then stepped back and opened the door widely to let the newcomers enter. 

   ‘Alright, Percy, this man right here is Arthur, the man whom I’ve almost lost to, and his friends - Merlin and Margaret.’ Gwaine began, as he introduced them. 

Percy extended his hand to each of them and smiled, his face clearly indicating he needed more explanation than that. 

‘I invited them over because they are just passing and have no other place to stay. Hadn’t been for us they would have to spend the night sweaty and muddy and exhausted in a car driving towards London.’ Gwaine added the belated explanation as he was already putting his trophy in its rightful place and showing their guests the way to the bathroom. 

‘You are welcome to stay here, then.’ Said Percy, sounding serious when compared to his other half. Though, who didn’t sound serious when compared to Gwaine? 

   ‘Lemme know if any of you want something to eat.’ Added the big man, shuffling with his slippers to the kitchen. It was clear Percy didn’t expect any visitors, but at the same time he did not seem like someone to make any fuss about having them. His t-shirt and knee-length trousers made it clear he was ready to call it a night. And yet, unusual as it was, he was ready to help his husband’s new friends. 

‘We have toast and…’ Percy paused for a second, rummaging through a cupboard. Then his head emerged from the kitchen. ‘We only have toast, really. And some jam. I’spose it’s better than nothing.’ 

With a single look at the miserable state of the three adventurers, Percy simply hid back in the kitchen and took out the bread. 

   The bathroom was currently occupied by Arthur, as he appeared to have needed it most. Gwaine got him a towel of his own and some loose pyjamas, not accepting a word of objection. The young king could not even begin to comprehend how Merlin knew about Percy. Were the two a thing all those centuries back? And if so - did he, Arthur know about this all those years ago, or was he oblivious to everything? Not realising Merlin had magic, not realising his friends were in love… Arthur could not help but question how thick he had to be and how he had managed to be a good king.

   Meanwhile, Gwaine and Margaret were cheerfully exchanging stories from their relationships over the first toast that came out of Percy’s kitchen. Seeing as there was no other place he was needed, Merlin took it upon himself to validate whether the taller knight was just as much himself as his other half. He slowly stumbled into the kitchen and sat on one of the chairs, his creaking bones letting Percy know of his presence. 

‘Can’t wait for the toast, Sir?’ Percy smiled shyly. Merlin chuckled. 

‘You don’t have to call me that. My name is Merlin. It’s a weird name, alright. But it feels even weirder to be called ‘sir’.’ Answered the warlock. 

Percy nodded and offered another smile. He turned his back to the warlock as he tried to make room for more plates on the table. He, apparently, wasn’t one for small talk. Which wasn’t exactly bad, as it fell right in with his character. 

   ‘If you don’t mind me asking…’ Began Merlin. ‘Is Percy short for something? Or is it your full name?’ He asked, begging his voice to seem at least slightly indifferent. 

Percy nodded appreciatively. 

‘It is, in fact, short for something. My name is actually Percival.’ He answered with his usual calmness, seemingly unaware of the warlocks eager curiosity. ‘You can call me that, if you want to. Gwaine calls me Percy and so he introduces me that way. Some people, tough, simply refuse to call me that, seeing as I’m usually twice their size.’ He smiled. 

Merlin chuckled, again. Inside, on the other hand, he had an entire turmoil of emotions. Were he to close his eyes, Merlin was convinced he could reproduce a conversation almost identical to the one he just had. He excused himself from the kitchen and hid in the now dark corridor to contemplate his existence. Eventually, he did close his eyes. 

_ ‘Oh you’re Percy now, are you?’ Merlin chuckled, earning himself a playful hit on the arm. ‘Just because Gwaine calls me that, doesn’t mean you have to. I’m still twice your size.’ Answered Percival, smirking. ‘If not three times your size...’ He too now chuckled, evading Merlin’s punch. _

   Merlin was back in touch with reality just as Percival brought out another tray of plates with toast. He reached the living room at the same time a still damp Arthur made his way down the stairs. They exchanged a knowing look and glanced towards Margaret. She, too, knew. They were in a hurry and they lost an entire day. Arthur’s eyes seemed to plead with them to stay. After all, they met friends who were supposed to be dead for the past hundreds of years, who could be a clue to this whole mess. And if that is not progress, then what is? Merlin inclined his head forward in agreement. Today, they eat toast with Gwaine and Percival. Tomorrow, they’ll have a new plan. Tomorrow they’ll be back on the road. Tomorrow, they move forward. 

***

   Long story short - they did not, in fact, move forward. Or at least not in the way they imagined. And what was it, exactly, that they imagined? As they let the situation unfold, Margaret brought them to senses with a few short quips. Did both Merlin and Arthur honestly expect that the best thing to do was just leave? Oh, we just met two of our long-dead friends from the Middle Ages, let’s forget about them and carry on with the mission. 

“Truly, if they’re from that world and a part of your story how the frick are they not part of the bloody mission?!’ Margaret whispered to them violently. 

It was incredulous to her, how little logic the two friends presented sometimes. 

   The evening proved to be a piece of cake for the both of them. As they’ve already established Merlin was a terrible liar and Arthur had no brain capacity to come up with a story (to which he protested, but was eventually outvoted), Margaret proceeded to tell the tale of how the three of them have been travelling from Wales to Scotland to England within the matter of a week. Gwaine and Percival seemed enthralled by the story. And it was a story full of emotion and family ties and terrible accidents. Margaret told them as follows: Merlin and Arthur lived together, father and son. Then one day, Arthur went swimming and had a terrible cramp that almost led him to drown in the lake, only to be rescued by a local family (at the mention of which both Merlin and Arthur dropped their heads low). After the rescue, it so appeared that there was some damage to Arthur’s brain due to the time he spent under water (to which, he tried to protest, but was kicked by Merlin in order to keep quiet), and so Arthur turned out to be amnesiac. Now the three were travelling across the island to seek past holiday spots and meet family members, hoping some of those will trigger the lost memories to come back. So far, it’s only worked partially. 

   Merlin was amazed at just how great of a storyteller Margaret was. And he was not the only one to think so. Both Gwaine and Percy loved the story and swallowed it whole. They asked questions, they reacted vividly to some parts and looked solemn through the others. Gwaine joked about how Arthur forgot so much and yet his sword-fighting abilities were still there. Then, using the excuse of helping Arthur refresh his memory, he proceeded to converse with Arthur about fighting techniques, exhausting the topic almost completely. Percival inquired Margaret about her place in this story, questioning how one goes from having a post office co-worker to travelling the country with them. 

‘Working at the post office isn’t necessarily my dream job.’ She replied sadly. ‘But as long as there is something to experience here, something that I could possibly put down into words - I don’t plan on leaving.’ 

   In the meantime, Merlin excused himself, saying his old bones needed more rest. His words were met with worried looks from not only his companions, but their new (old?) friends, too. With one knowing look into Arthur’s eyes, though, he was positive they understood - he had more to do than just sleep. He has spent the better part of an hour trying to contact Kilgharrah, but to no avail. The dragon’s presence seemed weaker than ever. Merlin wondered whether that had anything to do with Gwaine and Percival. Whether them being around somehow interfered with whatever draining process Kilgharrah must undergo to contact him. 

   And so, in the morning, upon waking up, Merlin was to find out that there are two new additions to their crew. Percival and Gwaine were already packing their car to jump on the road with them. 

‘I knew this was going to be like this.’ Merlin muttered to his companions where the husbands couldn’t hear him. 

Percival was running around making sure the car is ready for a long ride and Gwaine was busy getting some food for all of them in a local store. 

‘Yeah, I highly doubt that. Two random adults choosing to forgo everything for the sake of adventure and helping two other random adults?’ Margaret asked incredulously, sceptical to the entire operation that was underway. 

‘Yes, Margaret. You just described Gwaine and Percival perfectly. You got to know them better yesterday than i thought you would.’ Merlin smirked, earning himself a scoff from the woman. 

   ‘Maybe’ Arthur began, turning their heads to look at him. ‘Maybe it’s not just that. Do you remember that weird pulling feeling I had regarding the fair? Maybe they feel it too. Maybe they feel it without even realizing it.’ He said. 

‘May be.’ Responded Merlin, his face solemn. ‘But how do we know they are supposed to be a part of this story? How do we know we are not getting them into trouble? How do we know we are not getting them…’ Here he paused, the words getting more difficult to voice. ‘How do we know we are not getting them killed?’ 

His words have had quite the impact on his companions. They all knew what happened to the Browns and they looked at one another without another word. They had no idea, and the only being that could have an inkling of what was the right thing to do here was not answering their calls. In the end, there was nothing else left to do. They got into the car with their new companions and gave them directions towards Margaret’s car. 

***

   Once back on the road, two hours into the drive, Margaret could see the silver Nissan trailing behind them, Percival behind the wheel, Gwaine jamming to what he claimed was the greatest road trip music of all time (in other words, Abba). They kept close and even called them at one point to ask how they’re doing and whether they feel the need for a stop (expressing the worry over Merlin’s age, with Abba’s “Waterloo” blaring from the speakers). But they’ve grown accustomed to long drives, these last few days, and had an unexpected day of blissful reunions that meant they had no more time to spare. The sooner they were on the spot to investigate, the better. How they would ever be able to access top-security evidence, which the death of the Royal Family members was, they had no idea. They all secretly hoped Merlin had just enough magic and tricks to get them where they needed to be. And they were all certain, that whatever this magical smoke bullshit was, it was bound to have been involved in a tragedy of such magnitude. 

   ‘Bloody...’ Merlin blurted out angrily. 

‘What?’ Demanded Arthur. 

‘Sir Gwaine and Sir Percival of the Round Table are behind us in a Nissan. They’re trailing behind Merlin, the centuries old wizard, and Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot. Driving in a greenish Opel.’ He finished, though the astonished looks on his companions’ faces did not diminish in the slightest. 

‘It’s actually an aqua, not green.’ Answered Margaret after a while, getting a grunt in response. ‘And… Who am I in this story, then?’ She added, tentatively. 

Merlin looked at her and furrowed his brow. 

‘I think you might be the only person in this entire endeavor that actually gets to choose who they want to be.’

***

‘Gwaine?’   
... _ I open the window, and I gaze into the night. But there's nothing there to see no one in sight. There's not a soul out there… No one to hear my prayer… Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight!... _

   Percival reached for the knob to turn down the volume. 

‘Gwaine?’ He started again. 

‘What’s up?’ Quipped Gwaine, awoken from his Abba trance. 

‘Do you still think this is a good idea?’ 

Percival did nothing to hide this adventure didn’t sit entirely well with him. He was worried. In fact, he was worried sick. Merlin, Arthur? Who else? And now they were leaving everything behind for the sake of what, a hunch? And yes, they agreed over and over again, that they did, in fact, both feel the same way about the newcomers. As if there was something in between the four of them - Gwaine, Percival, Merlin and Arthur - some invisible strand binding their existence together. But a hunch is not an urge, and definitely not an unavoidable one. It was still their choice to make. And Percival couldn’t help but feel they were getting themselves into trouble. Gwaine sighed and looked forward at the car in front of them. 

‘I’m worried, too, Percy. I really am. But I don’t want to regret not seizing the opportunity for adventure when it was so close.’ He said, turning to look at his loved one with a playful smile on his lips. 

‘I understand that.’ Percival scoffed. In an instant he became serious again. There was a pained expression on his face, that even without words, spoke volumes. ‘But this seems far more dangerous than they’re letting on. I just… I don’t want to lose you. No adventure is worth that.’ 

‘You won’t.’ answered Gwaine softly, taking Percival’s hand into his own. ‘I promise. You won’t.’ 


End file.
